That's Childish, So Childish
by Lancynth
Summary: Slightly AU, 2fold optional endings (nopair and 2x6). When falsified paperwork gets caught, Zechs's fine is in the way of losing 12 years. Who would a miffed kid turn to for help? Why, G-boys, of course! Chapter 24--The first fight in Sanc... kinda.
1. Another Night, With Open Eyes

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter One: Another Night, With Open Eyes…  
  
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Disclaimer: Um, if I owned anything here, I wouldn't have this under "Fanfiction" but "Original". Just a thought. Title/chapter words will all be from Petshop Boys songs.  
  
Warnings: Potential sarcasm. Yeah, right. Some characters get abused. If anything bad happens, though, it'll be lost in a page- or scene-break, so don't worry. Maybe blood and gore, but hey, "Braveheart" probably showed more than me…  
  
Pairings: Undetermined of yet, and won't matter until the end anyway. Let me know what you want—or I'll go by my own whims (not sure you guys'll like that, tho…).  
  
Synopsis: Say that in falsifying reports about blowing up the reconstructed Wing Gundam, Zechs was betrayed. Say that Romefeller was playing some hidden experiments and wanted a guinea-pig. Put them together and you've a 7-year-old Zechs who's miffed—and decides to make life interesting for (eventually) 5 familiar Gundam pilots. Changes the original story, doesn't it?  
  
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"Colonel…"  
  
He stiffened at that voice. The mere fact that it was here again and accosting him by the lounge's coffeepot meant the owner was on his tail—not just standing behind him—and he had to be wary. Yet Zechs found it hard not to bristle as well at Acht's tone—there was just something about the man and his voice that threatened to make even /his/ long hair stand on end like an upset cat's.  
  
//I wonder what it is /now/. Why is it that suddenly Romefeller thinks I need a babysitter?// But he knew. Why else would they hound him when Treize trusted him impeccably? //They know too much about me. They don't trust me as far as they could throw the Tallgeese… and they know all about Sanc.//  
  
Slowly turning to face the short Inspector, he kept his face expressionless. Not just mere habit, that—he couldn't afford less than his best poker-face right now.  
  
//Ironic, that Treize knows as much and trusts me, yet they don't… Unless they don't trust him any more than they do me.// Beneath his mask, his eyes narrowed slightly at the smirking Inspector. That couldn't be a good sign… //Oh damn… Forget Treize, Merquise—looks like you're going to fall into the fire before he does!//  
  
"Yes…?" Zechs made it sound bored. That took effort, though, because he had a very BAD feeling about this. //For one thing… how'd he find me here, anyway? Only—//  
  
"A Mister Tedon Smith told us something about falsified forms and fireworks shows… and a visit to this South American base." That smirk became a twisted predator grin of triumph.  
  
Zechs could feel his heart sink to a location somewhere two floors beneath where they were standing. //Yes, that's one of the few… So he barked on me… Whatever did I do to /him/? This won't be good—the question is, however, just how /bad/ this is…// "And that leaves us where, Inspector?" he inquired blandly, his well-practiced control standing strong despite the increasing fear Acht's expression was stirring up.  
  
He could have sworn Acht was disappointed by his reaction—in fact, the man seemed crestfallen, like a kid expecting the lion to roar and finding that the lion was snoring rather loudly, though he still appeared determined to have some fun at Zechs's expense. //Sorry, Inspector, but begging for forgiveness or making excuses just aren't part of my repertoire… Try Duke Dermail. Go poke a stick at him… or better yet, Lady Une. She'd probably find a nice and simple way to kill you without anyone being able to trace her back to it…//  
  
As he watched with external impassivity (and an internal grimace), Acht frowned and held forth a folder derisively. "It leaves us at your arrest, Colonel, and the impounding of both the Gundam that /should/ have been blown up as well as the Tallgeese."  
  
And the vile man smirked smugly.  
  
Zechs glowered through his mask, seething—though of course Acht couldn't tell. Taking the Gundam was one thing, quite expected, though the fools would obviously waste it or waste time struggling to study it when his men already knew all there was to be learned from that masterpiece of mobile suit engineering. Arresting him fit the norm—and probably a court marshal would follow, perhaps topped off by the usual execution that ruthless organizations such as Romefeller loved to employ. Taking the /Tallgeese/ was a blow at his pride, however. They could just as easily leave it for another to use, not that many others would be /able/ to and live, but few believed that fact—the majority of the military thought the old suit redundant and thus useless… or weak. Alex and Muller had been prime examples of the popular opinions out there.  
  
//They're doing it only to hurt me. But I'll be damned if I give you that satisfaction… at least openly. Damn… My beautiful Tallgeese… I hope Noin steals it from you bastards and teaches you just what exactly it /is/ capable of.//  
  
Oh? Acht seemed to be waiting rather impatiently for a reply.  
  
Glumly, Zechs acknowledged to himself that he was caught. He had gambled—and lost, though the odds had been in his favor… Perhaps for now escape just /might/ be possible, but he'd bet Acht's cronies—who were undoubtedly nearby—had orders to shoot him on sight if he left the room without the man. And later… well, that would depend on just how competent Romefeller would turn out to be. Probably almost overly-competent, considering Zechs's record, history, and reputation. So, in the end, he'd end up dead. Well, that was all fine and dandy—he hadn't expected to live past the freeing of Sanc anyway. It was disappointing, though. So much for his hopes of dying in battle… with /some/ kind of honor, even if it wasn't a kind his father would have approved of.  
  
//But death is death—it probably hurts as much. One Alliance killed my family—the next one merely finishes the job, I suppose…//  
  
So Zechs reached for his gun.  
  
Hearing the Inspector's breath catch in sudden terror, he couldn't help a faint smile of his own. "You needn't worry. If I wanted to shoot you, you wouldn't have /seen/ my hand move…."  
  
Acht growled at that, trying to regain his composure. "Your so-exalted reflexes," he commented sarcastically.  
  
Zechs ignored that, and quietly unbuckled the holster, setting it and the gun aside on a nearby counter with deliberate slowness—almost mocking the man with his lazy attitude of surrendering.  
  
"So when is my trial?" On the bright side, trying him anywhere would be very embarrassing for both Oz /and/ Romefeller, considering he /was/ their best weapon. Their own men would be upset by it—and wonder if they might end up in the same position as their Lightening Count for an equally small reason.  
  
"There isn't one," Acht crowed, eyes wickedly gleeful. "It's just straight to prison—/our/ choice of prison—for you. A lot of good your reflexes will do you there—unless they keep you from becoming the underling of some other prisoner already there!"  
  
Zechs froze, ice filling his veins. Bad? This qualified as a worst-case scenario! Odds were Acht was merely spouting what he'd been told, but Zechs had been around both Oz and Romefeller long enough to know they knew better than to keep him alive long. The longer he lived, the more likely he'd escape, and the more likely he was to escape, the more likely he—who had devoted his life to /one/ revenge—was to take up a /new/ target for his fury… like his former captors. They couldn't afford it. They weren't idiots. Well, not most of the ones with actual power, anyway. Or at least not completely /suicidal/ idiots—which they'd have to be to merely imprison him. He wondered just what his last months would be like… It was starting to look like they had something planned for him already, and it wouldn't be pretty… or fun.  
  
The ice was only briefly in residence, however, before a reasonable fiery rage melted it away. //All over keeping a damn useful mobile suit?!? I /know/ I'm useful, and I /know/ there's nobody else who can stand against the Gundams! I know I can win, fairly, if they'd let me! If they have a problem against fighting fair, couldn't they have just sent a damn memo? Instead of this… this…//  
  
Acht was audibly struggling not to laugh behind him, motive enough for anyone to get upset. So the former Tallgeese pilot whirled on him with his usual eye-blurring speed, taking a single step to close the distance—putting them almost chest-to-chest, where he could look down his significant height at his tormenter.  
  
Acht couldn't help his reaction—he was a coward at heart, facing Oz's equivalent of a Gundam pilot whose /expression/ may not have looked miffed, but who was definitely radiating a simmering sort of anger that nobody wise would want to be the target of. Acht gulped, color running from his face like bad laundry in a wringing cycle.  
  
At this range, masks would NOT hide Zechs's eyes, and they were about as furious as an Antarctic ice storm. That last comment of Acht's was sinking past the upheavals the lack of trial had created, and only fueled the fury like raw gasoline. The ice of his eyes mirrored his voice as he pointed out, "Even /you/ can be lucky now and then, Inspector Acht… I wouldn't depend on it, though, if I were you. As I've proven just now… luck tends to run out."  
  
Wisely, Acht didn't reply. He was too busy shivering and gaping.  
  
Zechs eyed the man firmly, not bothering to hide his anger, yet knowing it wasn't worth taking out on Acht. He would remember, though—he wouldn't forget neither who betrayed him, nor the sadistic creature taking so much pleasure in delivering the news. //He's a fool… People very often /do/ take out the news on the messenger. And he'll get what he deserves, even if it /isn't/ by my hand…//  
  
Smiling slightly despite his anger, Zechs stepped around the man, going to the door. //May as well get it over with… To whom goes the honor of slapping on the cuffs, hmm?//  
  
"Wait…"  
  
//What does he want /now/?// The Colonel's steps halted at that confused tone, and stifled the urge to sigh. //Can't the man get a hobby? Like standing in the middle of the runway at take-off, or insulting Treize in front of Lady Une, or baiting Gundams? I. Do. Not. Like. You. Acht. Why won't you leave me alone? Haven't you had enough?//  
  
Turning only enough to peer over his shoulder through the eyeholes of his mask, Zechs was startled to see the Inspector looking confused and… perhaps a touch sheepish? Definitely a touch less arrogant than a moment ago. Rattled might be the best way to describe him.  
  
"You're /that/ angry, yet you…" Acht couldn't finish it—but it seemed a bit of sense had been scared into him. The Inspector was wondering why Zechs hadn't killed him out of fury.  
  
//Um… Hmm, what to tell him… "I have this thing called 'self-control'?" "Because you aren't worth the physical energy I'd have to expend in breaking your neck?" "An old aversion to killing idiots who'll likely kill themselves?" Or "You're pretty close to doomed without me, so why stop you from cutting your own throat?" No, wait, there's better.//  
  
"I get more satisfaction simply knowing that the Gundams are likely to avenge things more adequately than I can," he answered with a slow, sad smirk. //Sure, seems like a petty enough triumph for you now, Acht… But you'll face them, and you'll definitely lose. And after you, so will Romefeller… I know that, and it's enough.// "Why should I kill you when you can kill yourself easily enough without my help?"  
  
That got a nice rise out of the Inspector—his face started to flush from red to an unhealthy purple.  
  
//I've had enough of you, Inspector. Prison's starting to look more appealing.// Zechs didn't wait for the man to explode, but continued to the door, tabbing it open and taking one stride out.  
  
Two guards—Acht's cronies, who while they didn't like the man much more than Zechs did, could only curry favor though the loathsome man and so stayed loyal… for now. They waited a bit to either side of the door, obviously waiting for him.  
  
//So be it. In the custody of Acht's muscle-men.// Well, they /were/ topping his own height, and could have passed for boxing title champs in both looks and overall toughness. He /could/ have taken them… but for what? And do what after? The base was probably crawling with Acht's men. And there probably would be plenty of opportunities to die later, too, so no point rushing it now. Not until he'd selected the method of his preference…  
  
Icy-blue eyes flicked from one man to the other, assessing, without the silvery mask moving the slightest, then Zechs calmly and coolly removed his saber, turning to the one on his left and offering it. "If you would…"  
  
The blocky soldier eyed Zechs like he thought the Colonel might bite, then slowly accepted the weapon, frowning warily.  
  
The man on the right was eyeing Acht through the doorway and seemed puzzled as to why the Inspector looked ready to give the last Mount St. Helens' eruption a run for its money. //Not paying attention… Really, is this some way of reducing the overpopulation problem on Earth? Because it's becoming pitiful…// Zechs wondered glumly.  
  
Holding his wrists forth to the distracted man, he sighed. "Yes, I /did/ leave his head on his shoulders," he admitted wryly, startling the burly soldier and drawing an embarrassed flush to the man's face. "Shall we?"  
  
The large fellow grunted, and began snapping on the forearm cuffs. They weren't made to allow much movement, and had a tendency to feel like they turned your elbows inside out, even though they kept your hands in front of you. //Humph… So much for getting standard treatment. /Or/ escape. Someone behind all this definitely did their research…//  
  
Zechs looked down at the bluish metal, seeing his reflection distorted, head dipped forward in silent defeat. A long sigh slid through his frame. //It's over. The career, the man, the life… But I accomplished my goals. Sanc's free, and Relena will take good care of it. Noin will probably help her—and guard her—and do a better job of it than I can.//  
  
"I've been waiting for /years/ for this," came Acht's growl behind him.  
  
//Huh?//  
  
*Crack.*  
  
Blackness dropped over Zechs's vision, and vaguely he felt himself pitch forward to his knees, swaying. Distantly, a blinding pain spread from the back of his head…  
  
//Did he just shoot me? I almost hope he did…//  
  
Then the darkness blanketed everything.  
  
Zechs didn't feel himself hit the ground.  
  
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To be continued…  
  
"Another night  
  
With open eyes  
  
Too late to sleep  
  
Too soon to rise  
  
You're short of breath  
  
Is it a heart attack?  
  
Hot and feverish you face the fact…" -----"Can You Forgive Her?" by Petshop Boys 


	2. You're Short Of BreathIs It A Heart Atta...

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Two: You're Short of Breath—Is It a Heart Attack?  
  
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Disclaimer: Don't own it. Only DVDs, CDs, comics, cards… I'm /quite/ sure "Birdhouse In Your Soul" is owned by They Might Be Giants. I've no clue who owns Barney or his show's music and I /don't WANT to/… There's such a thing as too much information.  
  
Warnings: May get ugly here. Just ugly. Evil things (like torture and rape) are implied, but only that. Nothing too bad… Unless you can't stand sarcasm or bad singing or bashing Barney. I've rated things a bit higher, tho, just in case.  
  
Pairings: None /yet/, tho I've one suggestion so far…  
  
Synopsis: Either you read it in Chapter One, or you probably won't bother with it here, so why waste time? On to the show…  
  
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//Life is Hell…//  
  
He'd forgotten how long he'd been here, in the care of Ugly, Nasty, and—Zechs couldn't hold back a shudder at the thought of the last, the leader of his team of captors—/Him/. It couldn't have been very long, though. It just felt that way. Passing out every now and then during the day and night had a tendency to screw up one's sense of time, so it couldn't be just the way that time was spent…  
  
Right now, it was spent in the Hole.  
  
//Original names for these things /are/ beyond the military, I suppose…//  
  
The Hole was rather adequately self-descriptive. Someone took a stone- lined bunker and put a bracket at the top of one wall and a grate over the top. It was roughly ten feet by ten feet by ten feet, with a narrow ramp leading the way from the ground above to the floor of the "room". The bracket was for securing one's cuffs over one's head at a height that their feet didn't touch the ground. The grate above was for the weather to envelope you in its whims, and for those responsible for putting you there to begin with to check on you without having to clamber all the way to your level… It wasn't exactly comfortable, but then, that was the whole point—you weren't supposed to enjoy it.  
  
It was raining…  
  
//I like rain…//  
  
Zechs lifted his head a bit so that the water running off his cracked mask and sodden bangs could reach his mouth. He was thirsty… and blessing the weather today. The cool dampness felt good on his battered body, and this was probably the best and longest chance he'd had at getting clean water in weeks. Definitely the closest he'd had to a /bath/ in that time. The most obvious of the bloodstains on his usually-impeccable clothes were diluting nicely…  
  
//I'm glad I threw up on them today…// That was why they'd stuck him in here again.  
  
Apparently it was bad form to retch your meager rations over the man trying to interrogate you, even if it's because his two underlings had played a bit too rough with you a few minutes beforehand. But the Hole was the least of the punishments he'd received for that…  
  
Zechs's mind shuddered away from the memories of those /other/ punishments, unable to cope with them right now.  
  
//I don't want to remember… I don't want to remember… No, please no…//  
  
He shivered in the rain, as much as one could when hanging by just their wrists and arms with a hard wall against their back. The interrogation itself was always the same… though the punishments weren't. They kept becoming increasingly more… ugly… more demeaning, more painful, and not just physically. But the dialogues they had—they never changed.  
  
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"What do you know about the Gundam pilots? Answer me!"  
  
"I told you… nothing Oz doesn't already know…"  
  
"But you know something more! You were building that one for them!"  
  
"I built it for me…" //It's true… I built it for a fair fight, for my own honor—the pilot, the cause, wouldn't have mattered…//  
  
"How were you going to contact the pilot, hmmm? Tell me!"  
  
"I wasn't going to bother with such foolishness…"  
  
"You know who the pilot is!"  
  
"I don't know him…"  
  
"Who is he? You know!"  
  
"I don't have to… He's too much like me…"  
  
"Do you know where he is?"  
  
"I know he's alive… That's all…"  
  
"Where is he!"  
  
"I don't know…"  
  
"Where /is/ he!"  
  
"It doesn't matter…"  
  
"Tell me where he is, damn you!"  
  
"Hiding…"  
  
"Where /is/ he, damn it!"  
  
"Recovering…"  
  
"When was he to meet you!"  
  
"He'd be a fool to…"  
  
"You and he were going to meet, weren't you? Tell me!"  
  
"No need to…"  
  
"Explain! Explain, damn you!"  
  
"He doesn't need it… to destroy all of you… and me… None of them do… They hate us all… I've already proven… hate is all you need…"  
  
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Zechs's wrists felt numb, and he licked the nose of his mask one final time before relaxing his head back down on his chest. Why they'd let him keep the mask on, he didn't know. Maybe it was a mockery to who he was, as they probably knew the truth of his identity. Dying in obscurity—yes, that would be something they'd find amusing for a former Prince of Sanc they hated. The abuse to his body had encompassed the headgear enough that it, too, was worn—or rather, cracked from the top through one of the glass eyecovers. Probably wouldn't last longer than the rest of him… though with the dried blood underneath it, it might refuse to come off until then anyway… Not that it mattered. They'd probably fling him into some unmarked hidden grave with it still stuck on.  
  
//Stop depressing yourself, Merquise… It's not like you're a prince anymore anyway. You sold your life and soul long ago for Relena and Sanc and revenge… Surely you weren't expecting a refund?// The rain's weight slid a lock of his long hair down to slap his cheek gently. //Your hands are too bloody, your soul too blackened, your body too—// That train of thought broke as he shied away sharply from their destination, shuddering again. //Stop it, stop it! Before you drive yourself mad… Keep that little dignity, /that/ much pride, that you keep your sanity to the end.//  
  
He closed his eyes and listened to the rhythm of the rain hitting his head. And managed to smile sadly to himself.  
  
//Back to Plan A…//  
  
//Time and circumstances have called for a little music… If I don't drown in the process, but if I do, who'd care? It's a faster and kinder death than this…//  
  
"I'm your only friend but not your only friend but I'm a little glowing friend, but really I'm not actually your friend but I am…"  
  
Okay, so the song was higher key and his naturally low voice was off. And his voice was rusty from voicing frequent involuntary cries of pain recently. And it was definitely not a song suited for his vocal range. And he felt half tone-deaf from all the beatings about the head. And on top of it all, it was annoyingly /cheerful/…  
  
That was the point.  
  
"Who watches over you! Make a little birdhouse in your soul…"  
  
Once he got going, Zechs had to admit that it really was an uplifting way to commit suicide. By the second time he started the song over, his spirits had risen the highest since his arrival—somewhere in his knees. The lightheartedness of the song was simply too intoxicating—or the adrenaline of taunting his captors was carrying him on a nice wave… He didn't care. By the tenth round, he was belting it out on the top of his lungs with all the glee of a brand-new 5-year-old Barney fan with /that/ show's infamous song.  
  
***Author's Note: There's suicidal, and then there's just plain evil… He's feeling suicidal now, not evil. There's just some things you can't do, even to those you fear and hate with every atom in your body… It's just too inhuman.***  
  
"Not to put too fine a point on it: say I'm the only bee in your bonnet—make a little birdhouse in your soul…"  
  
Predictably, Ugly and Nasty came to shut him up. They endured his singing for a lot longer than he expected, though—a fact that drew just the faintest hint of admiration from him, though on second thought, they /were/ sadists and probably enjoyed the pain he was giving others in this rundown old base…  
  
Their individual reactions were equally predictable. The hulking member of the pair—Ugly, as Zechs titled him—tried to shut him up. By knocking the wind out of him. The tactic couldn't have been more effective: can't breathe, can't sing. Nasty—a shorter, weasel-like man who reminded Zechs sharply of Acht—merely called out suggestions for how Ugly should continue this discourse on music theory…  
  
By writing it in Morse Code on Zechs's ribs, it seemed.  
  
At least the rain felt nice and cool today…  
  
A welcome darkness tickled the edges of the former Colonel's vision, slowly wrapping over his eyes in a narrowing spiral, simply because he couldn't breathe with this rate of being bludgeoned. Especially when he had a wall behind his back for him to be bludgeoned against. Such a nice haze, a pleasant darkness, the ringing in his ears heralding that the end he desired was almost within his grasp…  
  
But then, abruptly… it stopped.  
  
//Wh-what…?// His graying vision was… steadying? He could hear wheezing breaths reflexively begin to deny him the escape of a lifetime. //No! Hey! Wait! I was nearly there!!!//  
  
"…He can be useful elsewhere…" someone was saying, distantly.  
  
//No no no no no! I don't /want/ to be useful…!//  
  
"…Space in the experimental trials on humans…"  
  
//The… /what/?// With the retreating darkness, so was the pain-smothering haze in his mind evaporating. ///Experiments/? What do I look like, a white lab rat? I've had enough 'experimenting' from this bunch!//  
  
"…Keep him still…"  
  
Lifting his head slightly, Zechs struggled to focus his blurry eyes on this new danger. A glimpse of a short, stern-faced woman tromping over with a syringe in hand drew a faint puzzled frown to his face. Granted, he /was/ hanging from the bracket so his long legs rested a foot off the ground, but she only came to his hips. Ugly towered over her like a castle over an outhouse, putting a meaty paw on Zechs's chest to keep him firmly against the wall.  
  
Frowning, the woman of indeterminate age pulled the cap off the syringe, and peered up at Zechs through the rain.  
  
//Damn…!// He couldn't help but be awestruck by her face. //She'd scare /Tseuberov/ into early retirement! Ugly, you've just been outclassed and need a new name if we're to continue this relationship…//  
  
Then she jabbed the needle deep into his thigh.  
  
Zechs politely returned the favor by coughing a splattering of blood onto her face.  
  
He had to look away then. //I didn't know she could make herself look /worse/…// The needle scraped against bone in her revenge, and whatever she was injecting burned, but those pains were nothing compared to his broken ribs right now. Ugly was increasing the pressure and it /hurt/.  
  
"…Him down and inside and cleaned up…"  
  
Oh, the needle was gone? Strange, but things were going blurry again somehow—more in a whirling sense than dark. Color… now that was new. //Is this what they mean by dying with style…? But style surely means it will resolve into a Monet painting, won't it? I like "Water Lilies"…//  
  
He could still hear and feel things, though that was… distanced now. Ugly had unfastened the cuffs somehow without dropping him—another unusual event, though Zechs's thoughts were starting to drift too freely for him to appreciate it fully.  
  
"…Least he stopped that damn singing…"  
  
Ugly flung the prisoner over one shoulder like a sack of wheat. Zechs couldn't bite back a faint cough and groan as his stomach churned, shutting his eyes swiftly. //Not again… I'm going to be sick… I'm going to be sick if things don't stop spinning… Do I have anything to be sick with? Ohhh… I'm not sure that's going to matter…//  
  
Something grabbed him by sodden hair and hauled his head up a bit, a hand moving under his chin and giving him a firm shake. Zechs cracked his eyes open again, to find too close for comfort a blurry thing that /could/ have been an ugly face he'd seen a short while ago, if it didn't keep rippling and swirling like disturbed water.  
  
"I'm going to enjoy your next song," the woman growled, inches away.  
  
Woozily, Zechs couldn't summon enough concern past the rising nausea to care. "Goodie… a fan," he half-choked.  
  
//What's a little bile and water between friends?//  
  
The stranger's resulting loud cry of disgust and protest penetrated the whirling haze, though, proving that, even incapacitated and ill, the former Lightening Count had good aim.  
  
As Ugly carried him off to some new—and likely equally Hellish—destination, Zechs smiled faintly to himself. The haze was actually pleasant, though it felt rather like diffused fire spreading throughout his body and mind, drowning the ache of broken bones… and growing warmer. It left his vision whirling, and the colors were kindly distracting at the moment…  
  
//Pretty colors…//  
  
//Blue there… Green there…//  
  
//Is that yellow? Doesn't matter… Gold there…//  
  
//Did I just say 'Goodie' to her?!?//  
  
//Pretty colors…//  
  
//Fiery colors…//  
  
//Where's all the green and blue…?//  
  
//Fiery…//  
  
//Fire…//  
  
//Fire…?!//  
  
The colors weren't pretty anymore. They were disturbing, frightening, dangerous, painful… and familiar.  
  
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One thing Treize never enjoyed was being kept in the dark.  
  
//Someone's going to pay when I find out…// he mused, walking into his office through the veranda doors, leaving them open to the pleasantly-warm weather. There was no anger—it was mere fact. Whoever was behind this would be punished. Simple. Just how he would decide later… once he understood the full magnitude of this crime.  
  
//Not so much as a toilette-paper requisition filed in the past month by him… And yet the Nairobi Base denies that he's there anymore. I /know/ he's there! Or /was/… Who /else/ sends a requisition form for shampoo and silver polish in this organization?//  
  
Frowning pensively, the General of Oz looked down at a stack of papers on his tidy desk, resting a single finger on the top.  
  
//Something happened at Nairobi… Zechs would have notified me, at least, somehow, if he changed his mind and intended to leave. But this silence isn't like him.// His eyes hardened. //Not like him at all…//  
  
In a flurry of movement, Treize scooped up the file he's been idly poking, sharp eyes narrowing. //This should reveal something… It's the Nairobi Base's report of recent events…//  
  
But the report began with routine information about drills, requisitions made, minor incidents between military personnel. The General was not amused. There wasn't even mention of Zechs's arrival there, though that should have stirred up things in the hangars, at least. It /did/ mention the re-stationing of a number of men who Treize was certain had been working on those monstrous machines for Zechs…  
  
Then something caught his eye.  
  
//No wonder they put the routine stuff first… I'd have tossed this aside early on and missed this if I weren't already suspicious…// A single line, trying to downplay an important event—or, rather, important visitor.  
  
//Inspector Acht visited, I see…//  
  
Romefeller's snake. Intent on finding trouble and stirring up all the things Treize had finally managed to precariously balance both on Earth and in Space. Treize didn't like the man, nor trust him as far as he could throw his personal ship. And he knew that Acht had been sniffling about Zechs's activities of late…  
  
//All the more proof that Zechs was there. Acht wouldn't have visited, otherwise! But it seems Acht had a few words with the base commander…// He had to stop and put the file down on his desk as a chill swept along his spine. //This doesn't look good at all…//  
  
Then a sudden thought hit him, and he grabbed another couple files that had been underneath the first, hastily scanning them. //Noin? Where is /she/ at? If anyone knows… Aaahhh, Corsica Base… then left with a large massing of supplies and a single transporter, without other personnel. Wise move, Noin—I suspect you heard of his disappearance before I did, and have gone into hiding… Good girl.//  
  
With a faint sigh of relief, Treize set those two files aside, and glared at the lonely one from Nairobi.  
  
Had anyone who knew the General well entered right then, they would have found the young man's glare a mixture of anger and worry, the latter growing to swamp the former.  
  
//What have they done to you, Zechs?//  
  
Sharp eyes narrowed abruptly to slits, and Treize picked up the Nairobi file again, slapping it firmly once against the desktop as if to teach the inoffensive wood a lesson. "I think it's time I paid a little personal attention to the Nairobi Base," he mused, calm voice carrying a powerful undercurrent of danger.  
  
The General was not pleased.  
  
The Hunt had begun. And woe to any who stood in his way!  
  
///Nobody/ harms my friends and lives…//  
  
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To be continued.  
  
So far, someone suggested tossing a bit more of Treize into this, so, thus this end bit. Hey, personally I think that if the series is followed to the letter, the likelihood is strongest for 6x9, but I'm /not/ following the series, here. I like any relationship with 6 in it, and can imagine possibilities for almost any situation thrown to me, and I like reading ANY 6 pairing as long as it is well-written (*Wink* I just don't review diddley, but give me time and I'll add some of you to my Favorites list). I don't write sex, tho. Just not my thing. 


	3. You Drift Into The Strangest Dreams

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Three: You Drift Into The Strangest Dreams…  
  
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Disclaimer: Um… I own a senile, elderly, so-old-he's-ugly Siamese Fighting Fish, little else. That's about all you'll get if you sue. That is, if he doesn't die of old age first. Oh, yeah, I (and Russ, I think) /do/ own that Tuff Teddy. Found him abandoned in a parking lot as a kid, myself.  
  
Pairings: None yet. Still possibly subject to vote…  
  
Warnings: Any torture done here is psychological, so your eyes are safe… Sarcasm, though. Synopsis: Why bother? On to the show…  
  
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Treize tapped the surface of the console restlessly with one finger as he sat in his personal jet, waiting, waiting. //Patience, patience… She'll answer. She has to…// he told himself quietly.  
  
Noin's face came on the screen, as well as a glimpse of… some kind of blue uniform of sorts. //Noin changed sides…? But to whose? I know Romefeller would never put up with any female in trousers… Never mind. We have more important matters to discuss.//  
  
"Miss Noin," he greeted with outward calm and a hint of his casual charm.  
  
Startled eyes met his own, but Noin recovered quickly, saluting sharply. She couldn't hide the disappointment and worry in her own eyes, though. "Your Excellency…"  
  
"No need to be so formal, Miss Noin. I see you left Oz for brighter horizons…" //Considering we're starting to gain momentum downhill, I'm not surprised. /Anything/ else has brighter horizons right now! She was never stupid or suicidal.//  
  
Her head bobbed slightly, and a faint smile touched her lips. "Well, sir, I felt I could be more useful elsewhere… You could say I'm filling in for a friend."  
  
That was more information than he'd been expecting her to concede. //So, you're in Sanc with young Relena? But he's not there, and you're worried… Something set you off, something made you sense the danger. But what? What did you see, Noin?//  
  
Lowering his eyebrows, Treize nodded slightly, mouth quirking wryly. "I was wondering if you happen to know where our mutual friend is currently," he asked quietly, moving to the reason for his call.  
  
Noin grimaced and shook her head, sending her dark bangs flopping into her eyes. "I take it he didn't send in the usual requisition for silver polish?" she answered, trying to keep her spirits up with a hint of sardonic humor.  
  
Treize winced. //Guess she tracks him that way, too… Does that mean Lady Une tracks me by my orders for concentrated rose scent? Get your mind on more important things, Treize… before they kill your princeling. You need to be armed with /some/ information before you land…//  
  
"That was one symptom, yes," he admitted quietly, deciding to let his own worry show. "What can you tell me, Miss Noin?" //I need everything that so much as makes you suspect foul play… I hope /you/ have some indication he's still alive somewhere… Oh, please do. Things do not look good at all from this end…//  
  
Noin swallowed, looking away, unable to meet his eyes.  
  
//I hope that's just your usual shyness, Miss Noin, and /not/ more bad news…// Treize prayed.  
  
"Well, sir… Officer Meiser contacted me a couple weeks ago, right after he reached his new assignment and had a chance to do so without others observing. He hadn't much time to give me the details, but… They /did/ reach Nairobi. He'd been busy with the Gundam, so he lost track of Zechs shortly after they arrived…"  
  
//All right, so the base commander's report is lying about that, I was right…// "So the Gundam wasn't destroyed then?" Treize sighed. //Damn… Then if Acht arrived…//  
  
"Acht's team arrived 12 hours later, sir, while they were refueling and preparing the mobile suit carriers for the next flight… He said they seemed to idle about a while, which made him suspicious. But he and the crew didn't do anything—they didn't know what to do, and didn't want to make things worse… The next thing he knew, Acht was shoving reassignment papers in front of him and claiming that he was just delivering orders." Noin made a face at the idea.  
  
Treize snorted indelicately. //Zechs wouldn't bother with that kind of paperwork—he was always one to give such orders in person. And for him to trust Acht, of all people? Obvious ploy…// "What then?"  
  
"They impounded the mobile suits and had Meiser and his crew deliver them to their own transporter planes. Then they all went their separate ways—Acht's team included." Worry filled her eyes, threatening to overflow in liquid form as she waited hopefully for his thoughts.  
  
Treize closed his eyes, bowing his head a long moment as he tried sorting all this information out. //So they took him out first… Then amid the confusion of the new orders, took him… where? If Zechs fought, the whole base would have known, so odds are they imprisoned him somewhere… Ah, but they took the Gundam as well… And… Wait, did they take the Tallgeese, too? That thing is far too hard to hide!//  
  
Opening his eyes, he narrowed them sharply at the screen. "Miss Noin, you have helped me a great deal… What you have given me will be put to good use, I assure you. I will find them, and what they have done to him…"  
  
Noin nodded slowly, her eyes closing as she breathed a soft sigh. "Be careful, sir… Meiser said they would likely hunt me next—which is why I'm no longer with Oz… But if they went after him, you could very well be next on their list. He wouldn't forgive you for sticking your head in a lion's mouth on his behalf, sir…"  
  
Treize smiled slowly, slyly, eyes glinting. "But he won't mind me hauling on the lion's tail, Miss Noin. I will be careful, however. Thank you for your help. I will contact you again if I have news…"  
  
"Thank you, sir." She saluted as he turned off the console.  
  
//I've no intention of sticking my head in a lion's mouth, Miss Noin,// he mused slyly, gaze hardening with anger as he shifted his attention to the clouds outside the window. //I intend to slam a fist down between its ears.//  
  
But as he watched the white waves of weather flow by, his thoughts drifted off of his anger-driven determination to his concerns…  
  
//I hope you're all right, Zechs…//  
  
//You'd better be. For their sakes.//  
  
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He clawed at the bedclothes and the bed itself, trying to tear them apart so he could bury himself under them, but with little success. Fire! Fire and screaming and such horrible destruction—the sickly scent of burned flesh in the air, the crashing of stone walls, the pounding of gunfire and mobile suit feet…  
  
Part of the screaming was his own.  
  
Then, abruptly wrenching free of the nightmare from his past, he sat up, panting, gasping, aching dully all over and still smelling the horror… No, that was just his imagination. The air was clear… the room about him was pale white, the bed beneath him a simple cot, with a light and cabinet to one side, a pile of dingy clothes on the floor beside it. A small room, yet almost cozy… Yet he knew—something was wrong.  
  
//I have to get out of here…// Milliardo knew, unable to banish this persistent anxiety. //Wherever 'here' is, I have to get out of here! They'll kill me…!//  
  
His head hurt. Reaching up to rub his eyes, he caught himself staring at his hands. Only the sheets covered him—nothing else.  
  
//My hands… they look smaller…// Something wasn't right, and it wasn't this place. It was /him/. Something about him felt very very wrong… //What happened to me? I feel… sore, but not aching like when my ribs were busted… My /head/ hurts, though.//  
  
Shaking his head, pale bangs flopping in his eyes and long locks sweeping his bare back almost to his waist., he shoved the covers aside and got up shakily. He felt tired, a bit lightheaded, and fairly sore, but nothing worse than he had long ago, in training…  
  
//Training, training… Focus, Miri. Sanc fell…// His eyes dampened at the mere thought, but he held the tears back, swallowing. It felt like it happened yesterday. Maybe that was because of the nightmare… Or were the other things flashing in his mind so haphazardly all part of some long horrible dream? //Wait, stop… Don't panic, don't ever panic… Take a deep breath. Facts first. What do I remember? Best start simple…//  
  
Taking a deep breath, he padded over to the pile of dirty clothes, and frowned at them. They were his, he was certain: battered and stained black boots to the knee, a red T-shirt, pale pants that were once a pristine white… Though right now the boots were as tall as his ribs, the pants /way/ too long, and the T-shirt huge enough to be more than a gown. This wasn't /right/!  
  
Closing his eyes, he rubbed his face agitatedly, taking another deep breath. //Facts. Start simple. Who are you?//  
  
Opening his eyes, he gazed into space a moment. //I'm Milliardo Peacecraft… But Mother and Father call me 'Miri' because I really liked that nickname the Japanese Ambassador gave me—he said it was from the Japanese translation of my name…// Yet that felt like only half a story, as if he'd forgotten the rest. Frowning, he dug deeper into his memories, sifting the disorganized and confusing mess. //But I can't be Miri, because Sanc fell…//  
  
He couldn't help a shudder at the memories that stirred, for all his attempts to suppress them, and he hugged his arms about himself, opening his eyes.  
  
//Okay, so I'm… I'm Zechs Merquise, too… Something about fancy mobile suits called Gundams… Some kid blowing himself up with one—I want to avenge the deaths of friends on him? I re-made his suit… My beloved Tallgeese… Acht…// Things fell into their correct places a bit faster as he continued sorting things out past his aching head. //I'm… I'm a killer? But… I don't want to be a killer! How much of all this is a dream, and how much of it happened? Something's not right… I'm just not certain what. Like these clothes…//  
  
Reaching into the left boot, he drew a knife out of a hidden sheath, then frowned at the blade in his hands.  
  
//How did I know it was there?// Miri glared at the boots as if to blame them for his confusion. //But… I /know/ they're my clothes. So it makes sense… though they don't fit. Oh, something's /definitely/ wrong with me. But I'm not going to stay here in the nude.//  
  
Taking the shirt from the top of the pile of half-rags, he slashed a rough sort of new hem before pulling it on. It didn't smell the freshest. The "short" sleeves reached his mid-forearms. The bottom still almost reached his knees. The pants were next in line for trimming—he had to cut the legs a /lot/ shorter. Pulling the adjusted pants on, he arches his brows incredulously at the excess cloth left on the floor.  
  
//I know that after a point, people shrink with age, but I don't /feel/ that old, and this looks a bit excessive for that!// It just felt… surreal. Like he was in a sort of Twilight Zone of his own. //How old /am/ I, anyway?//  
  
Oh, his head hurt! His headache apparently didn't like that question.  
  
Rubbing his face—careful not to cut himself with the knife still in his hand—Milliardo decided to focus on the clothes right now. He couldn't run about barefoot, anyway. And he'd no intention of staying here!  
  
Cutting the boots up into strips of leather, he used a large square for a sole and wove the rest of the lengths up his feet from toes to calf as if bandaging his legs—figure-8s that came easily to hand, though he couldn't recall exactly when he'd learned to bandage anything… Tying things off with strips of shirt-cloth, he stood up and walked about a little, testing his makeshift footwear.  
  
//A bit stiff, but comfortable enough, I suppose. And quiet. Good enough. I hope it's not snowing outside.//  
  
Reaching for the cabinet, he rummaged through the drawers. It may as well have had the name of some hospital printed on it—all he found were bedclothes and towels and some ugly things that could be called hospital gowns that made his rags look like a gift from heaven. He slammed the lowest drawer with a grunt of exasperation, looking up…  
  
A dull silvery gleam caught his eye from the top of the cabinet, against the wall.  
  
Frowning, he stood on tip-toes and reached up, needing to jump a little to grab it, finding something big, somewhat heavy, made of cold metal… Something familiar.  
  
The mask.  
  
He recognized it instantly and stared at it, emotions warring inside until he was shivering. It was cracked, the thin line tracing from the top and through one eyeglass. Dried blood caked the interior, and had trapped long silvery strands of hair that were obviously his own. Reverently, he scratched off the worst of the dried blood with his fingernails, tracing his small hands all over the surface, remembering…  
  
//My mask… With it on, I'm Zechs Merquise, the killer, cool and dignified and all predator. But…// He had to pause.  
  
He had to stare at his own reflection in the slightly-dulled silvery surface.  
  
What felt so wrong, so different, hit him like a sledgehammer.  
  
//I'm younger. I'm not only younger, I'm /damn/ young! I look like I'm barely out of preschool—or kindergarten! This… This can't be! I'm not that old—or young—or whatever! No wonder the clothes don't fit. But… how? What the heck?// Wide pale blue eyes stared into their reflection on the mask as he sat down cross-legged on the floor, mask in his lap. //What did they do to me…? I can't fight like this…! What do I do?//  
  
His reflection offered no answers, staring back with equal surprise and dismay… before hardening. Anger sharp as a beam saber's slice found a focus, and pulled the young man along with it.  
  
//I'm getting out of here,// Milliardo determined, getting swiftly to his feet and grabbing a couple fresh towels and a pillowcase. //I have to get out of here before they kill me… or worse. Like turn me into a toddler. They said even a kid could fly those suit transports—let's see how true that is! But I'm not staying her a minute more than it takes to get out of here!//  
  
The mask he wrapped up in a towel and shoved into the pillowcase, along with the scraps of his clothes, in case they'd turn out useful. The knife he slid into its sheath and tied to his belt. One towel he notched the corners of, using a strip of ragged cloth to make it into a makeshift cloak in case it was cold outside. Then he slung the pillowcase-sack over one shoulder and hurried to the only door of the room, reaching up to hit the opening tab…  
  
That alone was an indication of his altered state—one that annoyed him. His new vantage point sucked. Reaching /up/ for door-tabs that were made purposely for adult convenience…  
  
It whooshed open, a soft breath of mechanical relief, allowing him to peek out, up and down the hallway. A pair of people were arguing just four doors down the hall to his left, too intent on their dispute to look about themselves or likely notice him, but that couldn't be for long… In fact, the shorter one, some ugly lady, looked vaguely familiar… But he didn't pause to figure her out. Speed was called for, and Miri scooted silently across the hall, dashing down a corridor on leather-padded feet even as the door gently sighed shut automatically behind him.  
  
//I need to find… Well, I need to know what they've done to me. Maybe I can't get help here, but maybe I can find Treize, or Noin, or someone who can use it to help me. So I need their data. And I need to know where they put my Tallgeese—because I'm /not/ leaving without it! And I want that Gundam back—they don't deserve it…//  
  
Glimpsing someone coming down the hall, he ducked into a branching corridor, back to the wall, panting for breath as quietly as he could.  
  
//I need a computer console. It'll show me everything I want—I'm not too bad at hacking. Then I give them a sendoff present they won't forget and get out of here!//  
  
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Too many people were about, forcing Milliardo to tab open an unused room and duck inside quickly… With his back to the wall, he gazed about the room… and blinked in surprise.  
  
//I never knew they had daycare at the bases…//  
  
Toys were stacked on shelves or piled neatly, and pictures of animals, letters, and numbers adorned the walls. The thin carpet here wore the colors of the rainbow, forming game-boards kids could play things like hopscotch on. A small trampoline was leaning against the wall to his left, and various child-sized furniture and large toys crowded a nearby corner, neatly stacked. In the back, a computer lay dormant on a normal-sized desk with adult furniture about it… someone's office, possibly that of the children's caretaker. But the place looked unused, abandoned—dust lay in a thin film on everything.  
  
//Guess they only offered it long ago.//  
  
He could hear numerous boots tramping in rhythm in the corridor outside, and shivered, hugging himself. The troops had been called out. Possibly looking for him, though no alarms had sounded.  
  
Uncomfortable, he moved away from the door quietly, trying to distract himself. Studying the toy selection appealed right now, and he reached out to touch a couple games, smirking at those he found plain silly, arching a brow at some of the complex model kits, grinning at the remote-control toys…  
  
And found himself staring at a small stuffed animal whose impassive button eyes stared right back. A teddy bear… but it wasn't as absurdly cheerful as most things in the room. Its expression was serious, and it bore a forlorn air about it. A toy abandoned, forgotten.  
  
//I never had a teddy bear,// Milliardo mused sadly, feeling as if he'd lost the chance at something great. //I /did/ have that stuffed white horse a long time ago… Mr. Cloudstuff… He looked so serious, too…// He closed his eyes unhappily, mourning a childhood lost… and with it, one of the mementoes of life that nobody ever forgets and usually treasures even into old age—their favorite stuffed animal. //But Mr. Cloudstuff is gone… in the fire at Sanc… with everything and everyone else…//  
  
Until he opened his eyes again to look back up at the lost stuffed bear, he didn't realize tears were escaping to trickle down his cheeks.  
  
He couldn't resist.  
  
Scooping up the stuffed teddy bear, he rubbed his fingertips against the astonishingly soft fuzzy fur, studying the small tag on it that read "Tuff Teddy"—then hugged it close.  
  
//All I have is myself, a cracked mask, and with luck, maybe the Tallgeese here, if I can find it… I'm alone—you're alone… And I don't think you'll mind.//  
  
Sitting with his back against the wall, still hugging the forlorn-looking toy, his pillowcase-sack flopping to the carpet beside him, Milliardo Peacecraft settled down for a few therapeutic minutes with the equally- abandoned-seeming stuffed animal, a session that was years overdue…  
  
//I wish none of this ever happened…//  
  
//I wish I was back home… But I can't ever go back… Not now… There's no home left for someone like me…//  
  
But his emotions and mouth defied the logic he'd developed over the past 12 years… 12 years that had just been physically stripped from him recently.  
  
"I want to go home," he breathed past the unstoppable trickle of tears. "I just… want to go home…"  
  
His head began throbbing again…  
  
//But if I can't go home… I'm going to make them pay.// Old anger flared, renewed, the same inner fires that led to the birth of the pilot called Zechs Merquise long ago and fueled that persona ever since. //They have to pay. There should be justice! And nobody's going to give justice for me, so it'll have to be revenge. I can't give justice… I'm not worthy of that… But revenge, that I /can/ do…//  
  
Miri wiped away his tears, looking sharply into those button eyes. //These guys are just like the Alliance were—no, /worse/. The Alliance didn't torture anyone! They're going to find they crossed the wrong man… or kid.//  
  
Opening his pillowcase sack, he placed the teddy bear into it with a determined smile, sniffling back his previous pain, wiping away the traces of tears on a flopping sleeve, and pulled out the cracked mask, placing it over his head.  
  
Sharp pale blue eyes narrowed behind cracked glass as they surveyed his surroundings with a new kind of critical eye. For long minutes he appraised the supplies immediately on hand, face frowning with determined concentration.  
  
Zechs smiled again slowly, with a mischievous evil that only a kid /intending/ misbehavior could wear in his eyes.  
  
"This is going to be fun…"  
  
//This means War!//  
  
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To be continued…  
  
Everyone has a favorite stuffed animal from early childhood. Well, almost. Some of us lose 'em later. I had an old rabbit that lost all its fur—my parents tried replacing it without consulting me, but it wasn't the same. Tuff Teddy is the closest to a replacement I ever found, and now a representative Keepsake of The Past. 


	4. Or Do You Want Revenge But that's Childi...

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Four: Or Do You Want Revenge?—That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
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Disclaimer: Er… yes, that fish is still alive, and once again, that and the teddy bear are all I can truly claim.  
  
Pairings: Still nobody's giving me ideas, other than adding Treize into this. Oh well.  
  
Warnings: Egads—possible attack of Barney. No, really, it's not that bad. Otherwise, things blow up, psychological torture, and various GW characters feeling very confused… Oh, yes: reasons why, in the hands of some people, certain toys should be given higher age limits… for the safety of others…  
  
Oh, just read it!  
  
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//Three remote-control cars and two remote-control airplanes… I need new batteries for these things.// Zechs rubbed his chin as he glanced at his favorite finds. //I have to raid storage. Those firecrackers won't cut it for the hangar-business, though I'm glad I found them. I always wondered what it'd be like to set them off indoors!//  
  
Looking back at the screen of the daycare room's computer, he sighed softly and finished adding touches to his hand-drawn map. With a teal-blue crayon.  
  
//What is with adults denying pens to kids? It's not like they'll poke an eye out any less with these things,// he mused as he scrawled away, grimacing at the width of the lines forced upon him by the tools available. //I had better not lose this map anywhere—it'll be too humiliating if anyone finds the thing! But the ductwork in this place is too complicated to memorize…//  
  
Meanwhile, as he finished copying the map, the computer was copying—and saving to a small ancient floppy disc—everything it could find on something he'd discovered called "The Phoenix Project." What he'd glimpsed of the reports were all medical jargon to him, except some bits about not only making someone look young again in a literal sense, but /feeling/ young again, too. Apparently it was /supposed/ to lengthen the lifespan of the old aristocrats of Romefeller… but that was all he could make out of it except his own name. Zechs Merquise, test subject #6.  
  
//Can't worry about it right now. I can examine their research later—when I've that thing called "leisure time" or something. Got to get out of here first!//  
  
A final flourish, and he folded up the map, changing the views on the screen to some procedure forms he'd hacked away from the hanger's computers. Order forms, of sorts—changes of plans, demanding the rearrangement of things in the hangar, all signed by higher-ups, though he recognized none of the names.  
  
Neatly, Zechs set to cutting certain bits of text away, replacing them. //Okay… "For precautionary purposes in the light of a recent missing persons report"… That should make them shove the Gundam and Tallgeese onto the /good/ transporter plane. Change the date. Blur the signature a bit. Who ever reads these things through, anyway? And… send it off to their computers… Done. They'll need three hours to get their business in gear, though, according to the other reports… What lousy service! If this were an Oz base and not Romefeller's, Treize would have them court marshaled for sheer laziness!//  
  
That done, he checked on the disc—also done, it seemed—and switched the computer off, taking out his disc and tucking it between "boot" wrappings at the back of his calf. Zechs swung about in his seat, resting elbows on thighs as he studied the toys he'd "requisitioned", now awaiting his will on a blanket on the floor. Beside his pillowcase sack were an interesting variety of useful items. Remote control toys. Fireworks. Some extremely slimy stuff. Insanely-adhesive model cement/glue. A plastic tape-player and a certain tape of music. A chain of jump-ropes tied together to make a decent length. A BB-gun. A paintball gun with 50 rounds of blue paint.  
  
The last two drew a sly smile to his lips, and he pushed up the edge of his mask slightly—the darn thing was a little bigger than he remembered and tended to slide down slightly over time to obscure his eyes.  
  
//I've everything except for a handful of /serious/ explosives and good batteries. And food… God, but I'm hungry! Well… off to Supplies. Surely they have canned rations somewhere.//  
  
So Zechs hopped down from the tall chair, kneeling to tie the corners of the blanket together and haul the mass onto the desk. From the desk, he shoved it onto the top of a tall cabinet. Panting, he stood on the top of the cabinet—and refused to look down.  
  
//Good thing they never knew their "fearless" Lightening Count is afraid of certain heights… Though why it's only short heights, I don't get it. I'm fine higher up or lower down… I'd survive a fall from here without any trouble, so what am I afraid of?// Shaking his head, Zechs looked up carefully, frowning… then reached up to grab the grill of the air duct, trying to reach the fastenings. He had to stand on his toes to grasp them, then shook them loose.  
  
//Whoo! Heavier than I expected!// He staggered a bit under the weight, grimacing, then heavily set it onto the cabinet's surface by his feet. //At least I can /fit/ in here, though. I never would have as my normal self!//  
  
The sack went up first… then Zechs himself.  
  
Pulling out a flashlight, he turned it on and tucked it into his belt before hauling his supplies over the gaping hole left by the missing grill—and began crawling through the ductwork, dragging the blanket behind. It slid along nicely on the smooth metal surface.  
  
//Twelve junctions down, then right, then seven, and left… then fifteen and I'm there.// His stomach growled softly, making Zechs pause and grimace at it. //Shut up, you. We're getting there!//  
  
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Treize steepled his hands, resting his chin on the tips of his fingers thoughtfully as he gazed at the Nairobi Base's commander from behind the man's own desk.  
  
//You sold him out to save your own hide. You had better hope he is still alive…// His eyes narrowed at the man, who was squirming a little under the General's silent gaze. //If you are an example of all Oz has left, I should resign very, very soon.//  
  
"Ah… Your Excellency Sir" the middle-aged fellow half-stammered nervously, trying to break the silence.  
  
Treize didn't bother to hide his anger in his expression, and decided to make this sharp, quick, and to the point. "You sold him out to Acht to save your own hide," he stated coldly.  
  
The base commander shivered and couldn't meet Treize's eyes, shifting uncomfortably. "Sir! I didn't do anything—"  
  
//LIAR!// "Where did they take him!"  
  
Paling, the base commander almost staggered back. "I—I /had/ to, they'd have destroyed the base between them otherwise and Acht was ready to flatten this base if I didn't comply—"  
  
"I don't want your excuses—tell me where Acht took Zechs!" Treize commanded, tone deadly. //The idiot! Maybe Acht would have tried, but Zechs would have made mincemeat of him quickly enough!//  
  
"I—I don't know, Sir, really I don't…" The fellow had the wisdom and grace to look frightened.  
  
Closing his eyes, Treize let his expression calm, taking a deep breath. //Incompetents and fools! /Someone/ here must know!// "Get me your second," he growled, opening his eyes slowly again.  
  
With a stumbling salute, the base commander fled.  
  
Sighing softly, Treize rested his head in his hands. //Really, is intelligence so lacking lately? Have the Gundams killed off every man with /sense/ in this organization? What does Romefeller—and Duke Dermail for that matter—think they're doing, anyway? The mobile dolls Tseuberov is creating aren't an answer. Throw a handful of pilots with certain skills at them, and the pilots will win hands-down. We /need/ Zechs…//  
  
Brushing aside stray hairs that were tickling his forehead, the General looked up again at the door, waiting for the man's second-in-command. ///I/ need him. If they're going to throw aside sense, I'm going to leave with it and start something else. The wasting of lives for nothing except stupidity should not be tolerated… And /someone/ has to be available afterwards to pick up the pieces for humanity…//  
  
The door finally opened, admitting a younger man this time, as impeccably dressed, less nervous and more ashamed. The crisp fellow flung off an uneasy salute and waited, trying not to fidget with visible effort.  
  
Steeling himself for yet another unproductive chat, yet determined to keep going down through the ranks until he /did/ hit some answers, Treize set his cold gaze on this new victim. //I intend to know even if I have to interrogate the /cook/ personally!// "Perhaps you can tell me more than your superior. I have some idea what happened here… but I want the rest from /you/."  
  
The young fellow gulped, and looked down at his feet. "Ah… well… I… er… I don't know /everything/, Your Excellency Sir, but I saw /some/…"  
  
Treize couldn't withhold a pronged eyebrow from arching. //An eyewitness? Maybe I'm in luck…// "Tell me what you saw, then." This time his voice wasn't so chilly.  
  
The young second nodded, taking a deep breath. "Well… the Colonel's team had arrived a few hours ago to refuel, and he'd gone for some coffee when Acht and his bunch arrived…" Apparently the second didn't care much for Acht or those who tagged along with the sly Inspector, according to his disgusted tone. "They didn't even look for the Gundam, Sir. Acht asked to be directly shown to the Colonel."  
  
Treize frowned slightly at that news. //Then Acht knew… But how? Zechs is no fool…// Abruptly, his eyes widened, shifting to the young second's face.  
  
Betrayal.  
  
//Someone told on Zechs and the Gundam. That was all Acht would need!// A chill tickled the General's spine.  
  
"Do you know who did it?" he asked quietly, keeping his fear out of his voice. //Traitors in our midst… Zechs didn't stand a chance!//  
  
The young man simply looked bewildered. "Who did what, Sir?"  
  
Treize shook his head dismissively. //I suppose expecting him to be more intelligent and observant than his superior is asking too much…// "Never mind. Continue."  
  
"Well, Sir, when they came out, Acht was all flustered—"  
  
"Do you know what they spoke of during that time?" the General interrupted, sharply curious.  
  
Again, the young man could only shake his head.  
  
//No wonder the Gundams can wreck such havoc. Military intelligence really /is/ an oxymoron!// "Continue, continue…"  
  
"Erm… As I was saying, Sir, Acht was all flustered about something, but the Colonel surrendered peacefully to his men… Though I can't say they were very nice about it, Sir; I'm sorry…"  
  
Shaking his head, Treize held up a dismissive hand. "It's all right. I have low expectations of Acht and his men… Continue, please." //Acht, your days are numbered… I intend to collect, as soon as I find Zechs…//  
  
A long pause followed as the base's second collected his thoughts. "Ah… all I saw was that Acht's men took him to Acht's transporter plane, Sir. A few of them were joking about how glad they were it's only a short flight to the research base because if the Colonel woke up before they arrived, the planes would go up in a sprinkling of fiery parts. They seemed to think the Colonel would be… rather pissed when he woke up."  
  
A faint growl escaped Treize's throat, despite his usual control. //Acht… You are /so/ dead!// "Where did they take him?"  
  
It took a moment, during which Treize's eyes narrowed in growing anger, but his luck held. "Romefeller's Congo Research Facility, Sir, I think… They seemed to think it's a good joke. Something about obscurity, Sir…"  
  
//Obscurity…?// Waving the man off dismissively, Treize pondered those last words, not watching the man salute and depart.  
  
//Obscurity…? Zechs is rather hard to hide… A red herring in a pond of red herrings… Unless. Unless… They know? Then they know who he is? If they know that much… the rest falls into place too easily. They know /too/ much!// With a faint shudder, the General surged to his feet, calling sharply for his plane to be readied immediately. //I hope you're not too badly hurt, Zechs…//  
  
//I hope you're still alive when we find you…//  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Milliardo dropped the mask onto his makeshift pack, leaning his back against a create, nibbling the product of hard labor.  
  
Chocolate.  
  
//I never knew the chocolate came in such massive bars! Good thing there's literally a box of hammers here, among other tools. Takes some work to shatter, all the same, being more then two inches thick. But good stuff…//  
  
Licking fingers, he pulled the crate of grenades closer, and set about adhering a pair to either wing of one of the remote-control planes with the superglue. As the glue dried, he reached over to the mess he'd made—a pile of chocolate chunks lying beside a hammer on a concrete brick meant for building bunkers. He'd eaten most of it already, finding the sweet too hard to resist. The chocolate had nearly rivaled the brick in moving difficulty due to its weight.  
  
Popping another piece into his mouth, Miri reached for the next plane, thinking over his plan—which wasn't much of one. Disabling a few of the mobile suits would be the best he could do, but at least he'd have fewer to deal with on the tarmac. Chasing off the personnel in the hangar would be no problem at all, though. Once he got on the plane, anyway.  
  
//Ah, so I wing it. Oh well…// Shrugging, the boy reached across the grenades for another type of explosive, which he set to attaching to the remote-control cars. Eying the strongest, largest one—more truck than car—young Milliardo frowned. //You'd better be up to it, or we all go up in smoke.//  
  
He licked his fingers again, and considered the rest of the chocolate. //Hmmm… I think I'll take some of this along. Pretty good creamy stuff!//  
  
Eyes narrowing, Miri finished off his preparations, then repacked for the air ducts again, wrapping shards of chocolate into a rag, tucking a pair of pliers into his belt… and slinging the smallest missile-launcher he could find over his back. The last nearly dragged along the floor when he was standing.  
  
//Time's up… Let's get this show on the road, Miri. Or better yet, in the air!//  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The chaos all began with the pressing of a single button…  
  
Of a machine model-cemented tightly to one of the basewide communication speakers whose "on" button had been likewise adhered down. The tape had been set at "repeat" permanently.  
  
Barney began to serenade the entire base on families and love.  
  
Sheer horror erupted all over instantaneously.  
  
"What the Hell?!?"  
  
"Who the heck put /that/ on?"  
  
"Turn it off! Turn it OFF!"  
  
"Who on Earth is /that/ insane…?!?"  
  
"Where the heck is that /coming/ from?!? Find it, damn it!"  
  
People in the hangar peeked out of mobile suits and various base vehicles, confused, disgusted, a few very upset at how their ears were under assault by a purple dinosaur. A fair number left their work to find superiors and complain to about work conditions.  
  
It's amazing how few people watch the ground when they walk. Had they, they may have caught sight of the remote-control convertible car with a couple armed grenades in the seats a lot sooner. Then again, it whirred across the floor of the hangar at full speed, so they hadn't much time to notice it, either. So they didn't…  
  
Until it slammed into a mobile suit's foot at full speed, nose first, literally throwing itself into the air with the rebound—and shaking out the contents. Grenades scattered across the floor at the feet of astonished personnel.  
  
Then they screamed, panicked, and fled for their lives. Just in time for the explosions to help them depart, flinging them around in a succession of BOOMs like rag dolls sent airborne by an upset child.  
  
Across the hangar, hidden behind some mechanical equipment, a pale-haired boy with a makeshift blanket backpack (and a small missile launcher over that) and wearing a cracked silvery mask smiled slowly as the toy car sped backwards from the expanding inferno towards the command observation deck's base…  
  
//Next stop, bye-bye communications with the commander…// An evil grin touched the edges of his lips. //Phase Two, begin!//  
  
He'd always been ambidextrous. A good thing, too, because otherwise controlling the other remote-control car would have been awkward and ruined his plans. But the control-boxes hung from his belt, and he had memorized where the buttons were and how the sticks moved. And the second car, armed with contact-explosives, was chasing the feet of a number of engineers who were too close to /his/ plane.  
  
Zechs had checked the records to be sure the Gundam and Tallgeese were loaded on Transport Plane number 2576. But now he wanted those who had loaded them long gone. //I have nothing against you doing your jobs, but I want you to go /elsewhere/… I need to get over there!//  
  
But from the corner of his eyes, he could see that after the grenades, people were beginning to gather in groups and regain their courage—and draw guns.  
  
The rocking explosion caused by the first car crashing against the wall beneath the observation deck dampened that renewed courage a bit, though.  
  
//One down. Time to run!// Wrenching the useless control-box off his belt, he flung it aside, knelt quickly to plant something on a stick carefully amid the floor wiring of the machine he was positioned by. Pulling a lighter from the wrappings of leather about his legs, Zechs lit the end of the paper contraption, tucked the lighter back into hiding, and sprinted down its target-path towards the open tail-ramp of number 2576, expertly making the deadly toy car chase a few engineers out of his path with one hand as he pulled the BB-gun from the back of his belt. A couple passing shots of stinging BBs sent others scurrying out of the way with surprised yelps, not even bothering to look where this strange gunfire was coming from. Not everyone got out of the way, though—two soldiers on the ramp saw Zechs coming and charged to intercept, and another pair forgot the threat of the explosive toy car when they spotted him coming, halting in their flight to grab at his passing form.  
  
The firecracker whistled as sharply as a furious referee. Faces turned towards the sound, but Zechs's wasn't one of them.  
  
He dove face-first at the metal floor, sliding past the closer pair.  
  
Just in time. The firecracker rocketed wildly in his wake like a missile gone wild. Which it now was. Men scattered, singed by the passing explosive, before it smashed into the ramp with a brilliant display of blue and scarlet sparkles.  
  
Zechs struggled for traction as he scrambled back to his feet, and despite his fast reflexes, barely evaded a grasping hand reaching for his pack of "toys". Firing BB-shots at close range was a good deterrent of further attempts by that particular soldier, however—the man screamed and fell, clutching a leg and shoulder.  
  
//Get out of my way!!!// Zechs growled as he flung aside the empty weapon, continuing his dash for the plane—and sending explosive car #2 towards the fuel cache between the hangar doors and his target plane.  
  
This time people realized the car's target and ran for cover like terrified rabbits at the shadow of a hawk.  
  
Sensing footsteps behind him—and feeling a bullet whistle past his shoulder—Zechs glanced back… to find a handful of soldiers pounding behind him. He whipped out the paintball gun, firing, hoping the car would get to those damn fuel cans and free up his other hand in time, even as a couple of his chasers fell down with blue splotches on their chests…  
  
His feet clattered on the tail-ramp just as the fuel cans combusted in a hangar-shaking roar of fire, the ramp protecting him from the resulting wave of fire and sheer force. His pursuers hit the ground, either on purpose to protect themselves from flying debris, or sent there by the blast. That gave him the time he needed.  
  
Zechs whipped out another firecracker, shoving his gun in his belt long enough to light it, and held it in line with the floor in the middle of his pack of pursuers.  
  
They paled.  
  
Ignoring the pain and fizzling of the tail of the firecracker, which singed his wrist and forearm, he waited just long enough for the legal missile to reach full thrusting power—a mere instant—before releasing it. It sailed true, giving the targets little time to react, though a couple /were/ wise enough to flee immediately when they saw it in his hand. There were more cries when the rest scattered involuntarily, though.  
  
Then Zechs was in, and slammed his hand against the hatch-control, closing the ramp and tail doors.  
  
//YES! I made it!// But all was not over—he knew he wasn't in the clear /yet/. Dashing to the cockpit, he slammed on the engines, flicked open the fuel lines, and pushed everything on "full" power. The plane groaned and whistled, preparing to move, starting to struggle against her wheel-blocks. //Come on, baby, get worked up—we need to move /fast/!//  
  
No go. The blocks wouldn't let the wheels move. But he had expected as much.  
  
//Contingency plan, don't fail me now…//  
  
The third remote-control car—the truck—roared to life from behind a floor station, speeding for the wheel-blocks like a machine possessed. People started to move to intercept—until they realized it carried explosives in the bed. More grenades. Most left it alone after that. It charged the wheel-blocks, using sheer speed and momentum to slam first one set, then another, out of the way and set the wheels free.  
  
The plane began to move, with increasing speed, towards the freedom of the open sky.  
  
The truck, however, wheeled about and charged full-speed towards the feet of the last of a carefully-arranged line of Leos, to smack with full-force. Grenades flew from the bed wildly, only to get scattered about by the machine as soon as it hit the ground again. The pins had been adhered to the truck… The truck itself crashed backwards into the legs of another Leo, setting off another small set of contact-explosives. Leos groaned, creaked, swaying… leaning… One fell against another, starting a chain reaction.  
  
//I love the Domino Effect,// Zechs mused, pulling his head in through the pilot's window as a bullet clinked off the plane a bit too close.  
  
Something akin to a small earthquake announced the collapse of a whole line of heavy Leos. He could feel it even through the plane's shock-absorbers.  
  
//They'll have fun sorting that out…// A sly grin traced Zechs's lips as he flung himself into the oversized pilot's seat, tossing the mask and pack off and aside. Grabbing the steering controls, he quickly navigated the turn towards the runway.  
  
The radio crackled. "Transport plane #2576RF, you are not authorized for takeoff."  
  
For a minute, he debated actually answering the control tower. Then, with a shrug and evil smile, shoved the throttle as far as it could go instead, making sure the wings were at full extension.  
  
The plane sped up, engines roaring to full strength.  
  
"Number 2576RF, you are not authorized for takeoff! Abort immediately!"  
  
//Ahhh… why not?// Zechs flicked the radio on. "Number 2576 here. You'd better clear the air, or I'll do it on my way out."  
  
Someone was muttering on the other end, confused, to someone else. Meanwhile, the plane neared the end of the runway, and Zechs took a firm grip on the controls, taking a deep breath.  
  
//I'm going to have to wrestle with this half-redundant tub of lard. Hey, look on the bright side, Miri—could be worse. You could be trying to do this in the Tallgeese! If /this/ is hard when the controls aren't set for you, /that/ will be worse!//  
  
"Return to the hangar, sir! You are under court marshal! Abort takeoff /now/!"  
  
Zechs laughed. "Too late!" And he hauled with all his strength back on the controls.  
  
Airborne! The heavy transport plane's nose lifted, and the wheels lost touch with the ground—at least it had good engines.  
  
Milliardo tabbed the button for retracting the landing-gear. //It flies like a loaded brick but still, it's better than I expected… Not like the Raven Transporter, my lovely blue-metal wonder, but still… could be much worse.//  
  
Transport plane #2576 roared off into the desert sky as if aiming for the moon, leaving the Romefeller Congo Research Base behind.  
  
//Okay, Tuff Bear—I bet you five pieces of chocolate that they can't muster pursuit for a good ten minutes… Let's see how far we can get with this brick until then, hmm?//  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
To be continued.  
  
"So ask yourself now: can you forgive her  
  
Like she asked you to?  
  
Ask yourself: can you even deliver  
  
What she demands of you?  
  
Or do you want revenge?  
  
That's childish, so childish…" -------"Can You Forgive Her" by Petshop Boys 


	5. Of Youthful Follies And Changing Teams

That's Childish, So Childish...  
  
Chapter Five: Of Youthful Follies And Changing Teams...  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Disclaimer: All I can claim is my name... um, that old fish, the teddy bear, and that I can, indeed, spell "Maganac"... according to the comics. Is it me, or do various names get different spellings in the series, movie, comics, and cards? And you thought /Zechs's/ many names were a pain... Ah well.  
  
Warnings: Stuff blows up. Frustrated and confused GW characters. Sarcasm is always a hazard around me, with the occasional dry humor and gory medical detail.  
  
Pairings: Okay, I heard a 6x2 suggested. Still debating. You see, I don't do 7-year-olds having that kind of relationship--thus, as I said before, nothing'll show until the end of this tale. They have to be consenting grown ups, or not at all.  
  
Finally got the G-boys into this thing. Yay! Duo and Quatre and the Maganac Corps enter the picture. About time, I know, but hey, I couldn't rush things...  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
They took fifteen minutes to get their act together, back at the base. On the other hand, they had sent three Aries after him. Zechs only had two missiles for that missile-launcher--that was the most he'd been able to cram into his makeshift backpack.  
  
//Too bad the damn things can't be tucked into a boot...// The radar was beeping urgently, and Zechs sent the plane to a lower level before turning autopilot on. //Then again, if this damn thing flew like a fighter plane, I could make them shoot each other. But no--they had to design these things to fly like a catapulted antique bathtub...//  
  
Grabbing his pack and racing to the back of the transport, young Milliardo knelt at the edge of the ramp to rummage through his equipment. Out came the chain of jump-ropes and the two armed and deadly remote-control planes. He frowned slightly at them and the spare missile... then hauled out a firecracker as well, setting the missile-launcher on the floor.  
  
//Just how strong are these pyrotechnic thingies? I wonder... I just hope I can aim it well enough.// Grimacing, he glanced at his burned arm, which had begun to stiffen painfully, and flexed it despite the aggravation of the action. //Better alive and lightly crisped than being turned into fiery confetti for the lions below.//  
  
No matter. Tying one end of the rope to his belt, and the other to a bar in the floor, he tucked the firecracker and two remote control boxes into his belt. Taking a deep breath, the boy hit the hatch button with his elbow and waited...  
  
Slowly, the ramp lowered before him, letting in a hair-whipping turbulent wind that threatened to haul him out of the plane entirely. Bracing his feet and looping an arm in the rope, he cautiously picked his way out on the ramp's steps, eyeing the growing gleaming specks that were his pursuing Aries. They drew closer quickly, gaining fast on the ungainly, heavy transport plane.  
  
Looping rope about his left hand until he was as solidly braced against the sucking wind as possible for his light body, Zechs tucked one plane under that arm to free the hand for taking a firm grip on the other. With his freed hand, he jerked the pins out of the attached grenades, tossing them over the ramp. Then he punched the controls on his belt for plane #1 to start its engines, shoving the small throttle on full power.  
  
The toy began whirring and whining as the small propeller kicked into high gear, nearly pulling the boy off his feet. Zechs staggered with a gasp of surprise, wincing as the rope bit into the burns on his arm, and struggled to aim the surprisingly strong little plane.  
  
//Who'd have known?!? I would have replaced the engines on this heavy monster if I knew these little things had so much lift in them!// Squinting against the bright blue of the cloudless sky and the whipping of his own long hair, he aimed for the Aries on the left... //I hope this works... I only get one shot each with these little toys...//  
  
Then he let go.  
  
The little toy plane was sucked out in an instant, a tiny dart that looked like it would splatter across the front of the target Aries like a bug on a windshield. Squinting carefully, wishing he could wipe sweat from his eyes right now, Zechs tried his best to maneuver the tiny thing through the worst turbulence with his free hand, to try and keep it on target... Not easy, with the wild crosswinds of his own plane's passing. But he just had to get it close to the target.  
  
Then the target would do the rest.  
  
//YES!//  
  
The Aries's air-intake sucked the remote-control plane in like a jetliner sucking in a wayward bird. First a small explosion occurred as it hit the turbines and fragmented--then the entire side of that Aries bloomed bright orange as the grenades went off. Whistling like an animal in pain, the machine swayed and began spiraling down helplessly.  
  
With a wild laugh, Zechs pumped his arm in a gesture of victory before ripping that control box off and tossing it overboard. He began priming the next plane...  
  
One of the Aries tried to blare some message across the distance to him, but all Zechs could pick out was something about surrendering and "kid". The pilots seemed pretty confused about how he just took one of them down--and they were close enough for a visual pickup, which would reveal... a kid indeed.  
  
//Brace yourselves--here comes the next! Aren't these buzzards a pain? We /do/ get warned about accidentally sucking one in...// This time he wanted the Aries on the right...  
  
And the little plane took off, grenades at ready, rocketing for the Aries on the light like a furious hummingbird after an oblivious eagle. Another set of explosions, and that mobile suit also lost control, screaming as it descended.  
  
This time, the remaining Aries pilot didn't bother commenting. He fired on the transport plane.  
  
//Ahhhh!!!!!// Zechs yelped, flung off balance and sliding down the ramp as the transport plane shook violently. An engine bellowed on the right wing, streaming black smoke and fire, alarms and warnings screaming bloody murder, but he couldn't see all the damage from where he was sliding. Clawing at the ramp desperately, Zechs struggled to stay on board--then the ropes pulled tight...  
  
Just as his legs dangled over the edge of the ramp. Kicking wildly, he fumbled about for something, anything, as the wind slammed him belly-first against the ramp, the wind whipping his lithe body about like a rag toy in a bulldog's mouth. But the stairs slipped from his attempts to hang on, and all that remained was the rope. The transport plane listed to one side...  
  
Ignoring the pain of the bruising impacts, Zechs dragged himself up hand-over-hand as quick as he could, using the rope and steps to get at least most of the way up the ramp and out of the fiercest of the turbulent winds. There, at least, while they tugged powerfully at him, they weren't strong enough to literally fling him around like a soccer ball on a string.  
  
The Aries's engines seemed to bellow louder...  
  
Like lightening, Zechs whipped out the firecracker and lighter, cursing as he tried to light it, trying to protect the lighter with his hunched body. He could hear that Aries's engines as it drew closer and closer. //Is the fool going to try and /land/ in here? Heck--Miri, just fling the thing!//  
  
The firecracker had finally caught, luckily before the next whip of wind ripped the lighter from his hands and off to the sands far below. Fire sparked, fizzed--then roared, fed by the battering winds.  
  
//Ah! Damn!// God, was it hot! Silvery-pale hair singed, fair skin as well, but then he rolled onto his back to look up at the massive Aries bearing down at him and the ramp--and opened his hands.  
  
Like a vengeful missile, the firecracker shot off right into the air-intake of the approaching Aries before either pilot could blink.  
  
The resulting blast showered Zechs with shrapnel, then the mobile suit listed heavily towards the damaged side, flipping over as it began a chaotic descent...  
  
Leaving the night sky clear.  
  
A slightly skewed night sky.  
  
Panting, bleeding, painfully singed, young Milliardo crawled up the ramp to the hatch-controls, slamming his palm on the closing button and fumbling quickly at the ropes with burned fingers. The ropes clattered to the floor even as the chaotic winds were cut off.  
  
//The damage--how bad...? Got to cut out that damaged engine...// Exhausted and aching, he staggered for the cockpit to look out a side window.  
  
One engine was visibly pouring black smoke, a shadow in the night sky despite the bright moon and stars. Bullet holes punctured the rest of the wing in a couple neat lines.  
  
Crossing his fingers, Miri threw himself into the pilot's seat, hands expertly fluttering over the controls for Engine #2, closing the fuel lines, shutting down the engine, turning it off completely. //I hope this works... I don't want to go down near those three. We wouldn't get along. Lions would be nicer!//  
  
The faint sputtering of the damaged engine cut off with a final whine and putter, then lay still. The smoke faded, slowly vanishing as the fires died. The alarms quieted as the danger passed.  
  
Wiping sweat and grime from his face with his better hand, Milliardo relaxed in the oversized seat with relief. //Good... I hope they didn't hit anything else...//  
  
//If they did, I'm in deep trouble...//  
  
With a heavy sigh, he turned the autopilot off, hauling the heavy transport plane onto a new level trajectory before putting it back on and adding a warning for the machine to play to anyone in his way...  
  
//There's /no/ way I'm diverting from this flight path... at least not until I wake up.//  
  
But he was so tired, worn out... Leaning back in the seat again, he closed his eyes, letting his hands slide into his lap.  
  
One hand accidentally knocked the radio-switch on the way down, turning it off as Zechs sank into an exhausted sleep.  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Something roared by too close for comfort, shaking Treize's personal plane as well as the escorts. He stood, supporting himself with a hand on the back of a seat, and started making his way to the cockpit.  
  
//What the heck's happening?// he wondered as he took in the sight of agitated and angry pilots.  
  
"Did you get that plane's number? Contact the base--he should be grounded!" the captain was snarling to the copilot. "Sheesh! He almost took out our left wing!"  
  
"What happened?" Treize asked, eyebrows rising slightly, a touch amused--though definitely not pleased that someone had played chicken with him on board the involuntarily opposing flight.  
  
The captain didn't even turn to look. "Someone almost hit us, Your Excellency. Some drunk pilot on a joyride, I'm sure... Did you raise him yet?" The last was flung sharply at the com-officer.  
  
The young com-officer was frowning into space. "No sir--I can't get anything other than some set message."  
  
Treize frowned slightly. "What does it say?"  
  
Dutifully, the com-officer flicked a switch so everyone could hear it.  
  
"Lead, follow, or get out of the way! This damn thing flies like a dead rhinoceros..."  
  
Confused, the General of Oz arched a spiked eyebrow. //That voice... It's familiar, but I can't place it...//  
  
The Captain groaned. "Dumb drunk flyboy! Raise the base, will you? He's a hazard to serious traffic."  
  
"Ah... sir?"  
  
"Yes?" both the Captain and Treize immediately asked, together.  
  
"Um... All I can get from the base is kind of incoherent--a lot of people are talking, and it sounds like in the background... someone's playing Barney music?" The poor young officer looked at a complete loss.  
  
///Barney/ music?//  
  
The Captain and Treize exchanged worried looks. Shaking his head in silent disapproval and dismay, Treize trailed back to his seat, thoughts on trying to place that familiar yet unfamiliar voice...  
  
//I /know/ I heard it before... But where? Who?//  
  
It wasn't until they were touching down at the Romefeller Congo Research Base that Treize abruptly sat up in his seat and exclaimed, "ZECHS!"  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Master Quatre, we've picked up an Oz transport plane flying low in this general direction," Rashid announced with quiet calm as he entered the room where Quatre and Duo were watching the world news via computer.  
  
Duo sat up from where he'd lounged on a wicker chair, stiff and alert. "Just one?" //Damn, could they have found us? Is this the start of some massive assault?//  
  
"Have you tried hailing them, Rashid?" Quatre asked, worried, from at the computer, looking up at the large Maganac.  
  
Rashid nodded solemnly. "We only receive a message about a dead rhino in the airspace... A couple of the others think it's a warning that the plane is difficult to maneuver. Regardless, it seems to be losing altitude and spluttering. We think it may go down just east of the village, in the dunes."  
  
Frowning slightly, Duo scratched at his head a moment. //Well, not an attack, then. But good guy or bad?// "Do you think it might be Heero or Trowa? I wouldn't put it past them to steal a transport plane."  
  
Quatre shook his head firmly. "Trowa knows where to land here. He knows where the entrances to the underground base are. And he'd have no reason to stay quiet--he knows us... I don't know Heero, though."  
  
Smiling wryly, Duo chuckled. //Heero /would/ stay quiet. But I don't think it's like him to crash in the middle of nowhere.// "He'd be quiet, but he usually sticks a lot closer to civilization. Lets him hack into money easier with a server around for his laptop."  
  
Rashid cleared his throat. "I will go investigate the plane once it's down with some of the Maganacs, then, Master Quatre." He turned to go and make arrangements.  
  
Scratching at his ear, Duo mused this new puzzle. //If it's a good guy, like that Chinese guy, we want to help him, but if not, we'll want him dead fast...// "I think I'll tag along--something about this is just too weird," he decided out loud.  
  
The tall Maganac paused and looked over his shoulder at Duo for a long moment. "A Gundam would stand out."  
  
//Wary guy, isn't he? But I like him on our side.// Duo laughed, gliding to his feet and pulling his gun from his belt, twirling it on his finger before tucking it back. "Hey, if I can manage to shoot Heero--the perfect soldier--I think I can take care of myself on foot. I just want to tag along. Don't worry--I'll leave most of the fun to you guys. It's your turf after all."  
  
After a long pause, the tall Maganac nodded and smiled slightly. "Very well. And you, Master Quatre?"  
  
Quatre considered the screen before him, then shook his head negatively. "Thanks, Rashid, but I know you guys can handle anything that comes up. I want to sort out a few things Abdul picked up off the radio waves and see how they fit into what's going on... It's as if something very big is going on, but just underneath our feet, so we can't see it, only feel it... like a tremor before a major earthquake. If anything comes up, though, let me know."  
  
The tall man nodded again, then walked off. Duo hesitated, glancing at Quatre with concern--the blond pilot was frowning slightly at the screen before him in concentration. //Something really big? I'm not sure big is good, Quatre. Another military revolution's going to /really/ confuse the sides... It might end up a free-for-all!//  
  
Crossing his fingers, the braided pilot whirled and ran after Rashid, calling, "Hey, wait up! How are we going there? By camel? Those darn things tried to bite me last time...!"  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
A steady beeping finally hauled Zechs out of the warm depths of sleep.  
  
//It's so cozy in the sun...// It has finally risen, and right in his eyes, too. Not that he had noticed, with one cheek pillowed against an armrest, curled in the seat like a cat.  
  
Sitting up, he wiped at his eyes, wincing as burns and cuts and bruises protested every movement. Lights on the boards were flashing, the autopilot relentlessly demanding his attention. Something about the fuel.  
  
He tapped the gage, frowned. //Looks okay. Says half full...//  
  
Then he hit it with a fist.  
  
The needle plunged to the bottom of the red as if trying to pretend it had been there--and telling the truth--the whole time.  
  
//Aaaahhh! Damn it! They must have hit a tank!//  
  
The poor mauled plane was riding on fumes, sinking slowly but steadily. The first--and last--engine spluttered and coughed even as Miri wrenched at the autopilot switch, taking the controls in his hands.  
  
Then it died, coughing to a halt.  
  
//Oh hell...//  
  
Milliardo hauled on the controls with all his strength, eyes widening as he realized a small village lay ahead, not far below, a glistening blue pond nearby the center of a small oasis. Beyond lay a stretch of rippled sand, unknown terrain that threatened to fling tall dunes and gaping depressions in front of him in an instant.  
  
//At least I'm not going down /on/ someone's home! Oh, hang on, hang on, a bit more, a bit farther! Come on, baby, keep your nose up!// Gritting his teeth, he put all his effort into keeping the nose up and the wings level, aiming as best he could for what was hopefully flat /firm/ sand... //Forget landing gear--it's safer to slide her on her belly... I hope it stays flat, though!//  
  
Down, down, the transport plane drifted, bullet holes and open windows whistling faintly as if to warn animals out of the way. Then... a touch... and she was sliding, the friction dragging at her nose, making Zechs cry out in dismay as the controls flung /him/ forward into the panels with painful force, his light body unable to break that momentum completely--especially as he wasn't belted in.  
  
The plane slid a long way on her belly, then the damaged wing dipped, was sheared off by the friction of the sands, and she slewed around drunkenly, almost spinning completely about before halting with a moaning creak.  
  
Lifting his head from his arms on the controls, Zechs moaned a reply, reaching up to brush away a trickle of blood teasing the side of his forehead.  
  
//Damn, that hurt... /Bad/ plane! Bad bad bad!//  
  
Almost drunkenly, he staggered off the chair, and over to his blanket-pack. Slinging it over a shoulder, he scooped up his mask from the floor, and swayed over to the side-door, tabbing it open...  
  
To fall two feet face-first onto the sand with a painful "Ooof!".  
  
//Forgot... Only bases have the stair-machines...//  
  
The sand was pretty warm, actually. Almost too warm, though the day had just begun. Crawling, he dragged himself and his things into the shade of the good wing, propping his back against the body of the plane, and leaning his head back with a soft sigh, closing his eyes.  
  
//Okay... Now what, Miri?//  
  
//I am /not/ driving those damn mobile suit trucks! Besides, I can't drive /both/... Heck, I'm tired... My head /hurts/...//  
  
//I'll think later... I don't have the energy right now...// With a soft sigh, he simply savored the feel of that cold metal against his back and head, waiting for the throbbing pain of his newly-improved headache to fade.  
  
It felt like only minutes passed...  
  
Then he heard the faint swish of what could only be footsteps on sand.  
  
//I'm too tired, and sore, and my head bloody hurts... I still have the paintball gun in the back of my belt, anyway... and the knife.// Zechs mused wearily. //I can escape later, if I have to...//  
  
Faintly, Miri smirked, eyes opening, their pale blue depths full of mischief, having decided not to move but wait for them to find him. //Besides... I'm just a kid.//  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
To be continued.  
  
"You drift into  
  
The strangest dreams  
  
Of youthful follies  
  
And changing teams.  
  
`Admit you're wrong.'  
  
`Oh no not yet!'  
  
Then you wake up and remember  
  
That you can't forget!" ------"Can You Forgive Her?" by Petshop Boys 


	6. You Looked Right Into Those Blue Eyes An...

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Six: You Looked Right Into Those Blue Eyes And Knew…  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Disclaimer: I own… well, the fish hasn't died yet. Teddy bear's somewhere halfway across the country with my dad right now, so I'm not sure I can claim it right now (he puts a stuffed animal on his computer for luck, and couldn't find his so I loaned it to him). So now is a bad time to sue me.  
  
Warnings: Well, not /much/ blows up this time. Maybe people's tempers do. Some confusion. Sarcasm, irony, a lot of eyebrow-lifting, and perhaps medical detail.  
  
Pairings: It'll be 6 and someone, eventually. Starting to look like 6x2x6… But not yet…  
  
Duo and Quatre finally meet Zechs at that one village with the underground Maganac base that Oz tried to blow up in the series. Treize decides that yes, the army has gone to the dogs finally. Or the purple dinosaur, anyway. Yes, Barney can be evil…  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
Duo was quite glad that the plane had gone down nearby. Riding in the back of Abdul's Land Rover required that passengers cling to the frame for dear life. If it had shock absorbers, they'd been worn to the bone—and Abdul had a thing for speed. Rather wild speeds. And wilder turns at such speeds. Duo wasn't the most religious guy, but after that ride, he held a greater respect for the power of prayer.  
  
//Okay, I don't think I'm going to tempt the Old Man's whims like that again… I think I'll just walk back after we deal with things!// Shaking his head, he trailed after the others on silent feet as they approached the still form of the crashed plane on foot. Drawing his faithful gun from his belt, he drew the safety off, cocking it. //Note to self: even though they're a great bunch of guys, do NOT accept requests to borrow Deathscythe! Not if you want to keep the current paintjob…//  
  
He had to admit, however, the Maganacs were good at what they did… though that was mostly what the official world considered guerrilla tactics. The Land Rovers had been parked behind a small dune, so they could approach cautiously on foot. And the red fezzes were hidden right now, everyone wearing sandy-colored ponchos, to blend into the surroundings better. One man with a small missile launcher had stayed with the vehicles and a pair of field glasses… ready to blast the plane's remains to dust if danger appeared, before such danger could shoot down the approaching men.  
  
Right now, the plane simply lay still. All they could see was the ripped wing, sheared off near the engine, and that length of the plane that the stub was still attached to. Half the wing's length lay abandoned fifty feet behind the dead machine, flat on the sand, like an oversized breadcrumb trying to point the direction the plane had come from.  
  
//I wonder what this thing's doing here, anyway?// Deathscythe's pilot mused thoughtfully, even as he obeyed Rashid's hand-signal for the party to split to go around the plane to the other side.  
  
Rashid had gone towards the back, but Duo followed those going around the nose. The leading two Maganacs took positions to cover the cockpit windows with their guns, which were open but offered no signs of the pilot, dead or alive. Duo was left to take the next position—the first to round the nose of the plane, half-buried in the sand as it was.  
  
//Well… Here goes.// Taking a deep breath, Duo quickly stepped around the nose, gun at ready…  
  
And blinked, lifting his head.  
  
//A /kid/?!?//  
  
Sitting with his back against the plane was a young kid, looking battered and bloody from ragged-seeming boots to long pale hair, but not moving—just sitting there with a makeshift blanket-bag beside him and a silvery bowl- like thing in his lap.  
  
//A kid… What the heck is he doing here? Oz doesn't recruit kids /that/ young—heck, /nobody/ does! I'm fifteen, and /I'm/ under the usual age limit for war-business and terrorism!//  
  
That was it. Just the kid and his stuff. The plane door on this side hung open, but all remained quiet, unmoving.  
  
Rashid stepped around the tail farther down, looked at Duo's alert stance, and slowly wandered over, gun lowered but still in hand. A couple other Maganacs flowed from behind Duo into the plane…  
  
Duo lowered his gun, scratching his head bemusedly. //This is… This is just /weird/.// "Ah… hey there," he offered awkwardly.  
  
He gave Rashid a wry look. The older man simply smiled slightly, not bothering to take the initiative—and leaving the kid all to Duo to handle.  
  
//Great. Makes me wonder if he knew all along and just wanted me to baby- sit.//  
  
The boy looked up from the strange helmet in his lap to look at both of them as they stepped a bit closer and offered a tired, "Hi…" Pale blue eyes were almost hidden by those long silvery bangs… and seemed amused.  
  
Something about those eyes made Duo pause. They seemed… too old to match the boy's bodily age. Wrong, almost. Not in the sort of way that usually made Duo's hackles rise, such as those of cruel personalities, but in a puzzling way, as if this pale kid had seen far more than Duo, even at such a young age…  
  
//Nah, not possible…//  
  
"All clear!" called a voice from inside the plane.  
  
The boy glanced at the door at that, and giggled a little. "I could have told you that…"  
  
//Where's the pilot then?// Duo wondered, putting the safety back on his gun and tucking it into the back of his belt again. "Then who piloted this thing?"  
  
"Oh…" The kid managed a faint grin, seeming too worn out to manage the whole thing. "I did…"  
  
Rashid's left eyebrow skyrocketed like a firecracker, skeptical.  
  
Duo blinked, considered that answer, blinked again, then shook his head. "Hey, kid, I'm sure you're great but… a plane?"  
  
"Well, it /does/ fly like a dead rhinoceros…" Again, a quiet half-giggle, half-chuckle. "It wasn't /too/ bad… Until they shot the one engine and made a hole in the gas lines… Then it /fell/ like a dead rhinoceros."  
  
Rashid made a faint coughing sound. Glancing over at the tall man, Duo wondered if he was trying not to laugh at this strange story. //The kid's either got a wild imagination… or maybe Heero's got competition for that 'perfect soldier' title. Where would a kid learn to fly a thing like this, anyway?//  
  
"Who shot at you?" the Maganac asked, after a moment of quiet.  
  
The youth frowned at the sand a moment, one hand rubbing his cheek. "I'm… I /think/ they're more Romefeller's men than Oz's… But I'm not sure. I didn't have a chance to ask... My hands were full at the time…"  
  
Unable to resist, Duo asked, "With what?" Unbidden, he had the image of the boy with both arms wrestling with the steering like a man trying to wrestle a prehistoric crocodile into submission—with almost as little success.  
  
Shaking his head a little, the boy smiled wryly. "It's a /long/ story… And you won't believe me anyway."  
  
Rashid glanced at Duo a touch warily, then looked back at the boy, tucking his firearm away as a thoughtful expression slid over his rugged features. "I would still like to hear that story sometime…" he rumbled.  
  
//Me, too,// Duo chuckled. //If /he/ really flew this thing, it's /really/ got to be a wild story!// "Well," he started, scratching at his ear again, "maybe we should just go back to the beginning and start this over right. I'm Duo Maxwell… This here's a friend of mine, Rashid."  
  
The huge Arabian nodded politely, but didn't add anything.  
  
The pale boy blinked at first Duo then Rashid a long moment, then moved his right hand to wipe at a faint trickle of blood starting to slowly streak down the side of his face. Until he moved, Duo hadn't realized that the youth was hurt, but now he could see that red burns marked the kid's hands and forearms, and cuts adorned his left side as well.  
  
//What the heck happened to this kid? He looks like someone bombed a house down around him!//  
  
After a long moment, the youth asked quietly, firmly, "Do you like Oz?"  
  
Rashid frowned, and exchanged looks with Duo. //'Like' Oz?// Deathscythe's pilot laughed silently. //That's a funny way of putting it…// But Duo left Rashid to answer that serious question.  
  
"No," the large man stated firmly, clearly, with quiet conviction. "We are the Maganac Corps. We fought the Federation, we still fight Oz, and we will fight anyone else who acts like those two organizations."  
  
Silent for a moment again, the boy looked at the sand and the cracked mask in his lap, as if trying to decide something. Then he made up his mind. "Good, then… I'm M—I'm Zechs Merquise."  
  
//Was he about to say something else?// Duo frowned a little at that thought. //Well, it's /his/ name. Not everyone uses their real one. That's okay—I'm used to it after Heero, right?//  
  
Duo grinned broadly, and strode over to within five feet of the boy, going down on one knee and pulling off his usual black cap. "Nice to meet you… I'd shake your hand, kid, but you look a bit worse for wear there. You okay?"  
  
Seen closer, the boy really did have a classic aristocratic face, and an air of innocent nobility about him. A cute kid who looked like he'd run into a /real/ dragon when playing childhood games of fighting an imaginary one. And those expressive eyes… were strangely sad, a touch confused, and /quite/ tired.  
  
Zechs shook his head negatively. "I think I'll be okay, but… I think you're right."  
  
A growl gurgled nearby, making Duo glance down at the kid's belly, amused despite the sight of the Oz belt buckle and the obviously chopped-down clothes. "Hungry too, it sounds like. But hey, so am I—we missed breakfast."  
  
A tired giggle escaped the boy. "I missed /dinner/, too… I hope you don't mind sharing."  
  
Duo looked up to find an amused-looking Rashid standing just behind him, arms folded across his chest and smirking slightly. "I'm sure Master Quatre won't mind sharing," he rumbled slyly.  
  
"Hey, Rashid—you won't /believe/ what we've found!" Abdul's head suddenly popped out the plane's door. "A /Gundam/! And some big white suit—"  
  
The instant Abdul began to report, the boy had stiffened, eyes widening—now he jumped to his feet, though he swayed a bit on them precariously. "Hey, those are /mine/!"  
  
Duo's eyebrows jumped upward. Rashid's had already beat them to the man's hairline. //What in space…?!? A /Gundam/? Where the heck did a kid like this get a /Gundam/?//  
  
"/Yours/?" Rashid drawled, amused—though his eyes were wary where they rested on the youth.  
  
Zechs frowned at the two older men (in body anyway). "Well, the Gundam is 01's, but I /know/ what he looks like, and neither of you are him… The white one's mine. And you can't have either of them."  
  
Duo couldn't restrain himself. He laughed helplessly at the boy's claim. "But you could barely use the controls of this /plane/! You can't handle a mobile suit—heck, I should know! /I'm/ a Gundam pilot, after all!"  
  
Rashid just shook his head disbelievingly at the boy and nodded to confirm Duo's words.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Looking from one to the other, Zechs rested a hand against the side of the plane for support—his legs really /did/ look shaky. And they felt shakier. His head felt light, and his stomach quite empty, almost achingly so, now that it had reminded him about food and his own current lack thereof.  
  
//So he's a Gundam pilot too, then…?// "Which one are you, then…?" he asked uncertainly. //I can believe it, though… You're the same age as 01, and just as brash.//  
  
The black-clad young man calling himself Duo stood up slowly, grinning mischievously. "I call mine 'Deathscythe'. Big, black, looks like Death… and is."  
  
Frowning slightly, Milliardo could just summon the image to mind from his hazy recollections. He knew that one, though he had faced it only on screens and not in person... Despite a few close calls, which he was grateful to have avoided. "02, then…" he murmured tiredly.  
  
//My head /hurts/… Shouldn't underestimate this one either, though. 02 has a pretty impressive record, too.// He swayed slightly, taking a few deep breaths. //Damn, I really don't feel well…//  
  
A concerned look flashed over Duo's face when Zechs looked up again, and a hand moved to offer support. "Hey, kid, you /really/ don't look good—"  
  
Reflexively, Zechs moved sideways in a flash to get away from that hand, snapping out, "Don't! Just… Just leave me alone…"  
  
//Don't! Don't touch me! I… I…// Half-remembered memories of some dark time, cruel people, things he didn't want to remember and was /afraid/ to remember right now, tickled his conscious mind, making him dizzy and his head ache all the more. He clutched at his head with his hands, closing his eyes, trying to keep those half-memories at bay. //I don't want to remember… Not /that/…//  
  
"Okay, okay… Sorry, just wanted to help, kid. You look rather like Death warmed over, you know?" Duo was chattering cheerfully—though his dark blue eyes were full of silent empathy. Somehow, perhaps he'd guessed…  
  
"We can take these two mobile suits to where Duo's Gundam is being stored… It will be safe there as well, if you will accept our hospitality," Rashid offered quietly, his stance still impassive, though some sort of sadness had touched his dark eyes. "Oz will surely be looking for this plane…"  
  
Zechs could only nod glumly, still swaying on his feet, admitting that the man was probably right. //And I haven't much choice… I can't even get to the village on my own right now…//  
  
"Hey, Rashid… That big white thing looks like some kind of older model. But some of it would help in finishing up this Gundam, they're so alike—" Abdul added cheerfully, sticking his head back out.  
  
//No! Not my Tallgeese!// "You leave my Tallgeese alone!" Zechs yelled, lunging at the man in the door way of the plane with the lightening speed of his old reflexes.  
  
Trying to, anyway. For one, the doorway he'd fallen out of was a good two feet off the sand, and he only stood at three feet right now.  
  
And Zechs's feet had finally decided to protest his abuse of them by going on strike, taking the rest of his body with it. He stumbled heavily, the world graying around him, his headache suddenly feeling like it was weighing down his head physically. His body felt so weak…  
  
//Traitor,// he thought at himself.  
  
Strong arms caught him in time to keep him from slamming his face into the sand again. "Hey, kid, it's okay—Abdul won't use your white suit for replacement parts, don't worry," Duo's voice hastily assured, though seemingly from a distance. "We'll make sure, don't worry…"  
  
Rashid's deep voice was murmuring something, too, but Miri couldn't catch it. He could only feebly bat at one of Duo's encircling arms, unable to stop the blackness sweeping over him. "My Tallgeese… You promise?" His voice sounded faint, even to him.  
  
A quiet laugh. "Yeah, I promise. And Duo Maxwell may run and hide, but he never tells a lie."  
  
//Well… that's good to know… I guess I'm not the only one with some sense of honor…//  
  
That was his last thought before the darkness finally welcomed him to unconsciousness.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Duo smiled sadly as he lowered the kid to the ground gently. //He's so light—must be half-starved, too, not just abused. No wonder he's fainted… I'm surprised he got this far. I'm surprised he managed to stand!//  
  
Rashid peered over Duo's shoulder at the boy, making a face. "He'll need a doctor from the village. We'll see to that—and the mobile suits… and the plane's 'disappearance' as well. Can you take him back?"  
  
Deathscythe's pilot nodded firmly. "He's light enough… Poor kid. Can I use one of the Land Rovers?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
As he slid an arm under the boy's legs, to heft the light form in his arms, Duo glanced back up at the tall Maganac.  
  
Rashid chuckled softly, a rolling rumble. "Don't worry. I will make sure Abdul and the others don't chop his mobile suit up."  
  
//Good. Who knows what this kid might do, considering he got this far somehow.// "Yeah, well… I /do/ like to keep my promises, you know… and he looks like he's been through enough for one day."  
  
Rashid nodded grimly, dark eyes narrowing angrily, staring through the pale boy.  
  
Duo, too, looked down at the boy he was lifting in his arms, sympathizing with the tall Arabian.  
  
//Kid, if I come across the guy who hurt you like that, you can bet that good old Death'll be sure to shove the fellow's soul firmly into the Hell where it belongs…//  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Treize Kushrenada rested one hand on the window glass, staring out at the horizon—and beyond it—while trying not to grind his teeth in frustrated anger. Not that anyone who hadn't known him a long time would notice. He was adept at hiding his feelings with the perfect poker-face. All generals had to be. However, loyal Lady Une would have known, by the tension in his shoulders. Zechs would have noticed it, too… But neither of them were here.  
  
//Merry-go-rounds. My best pilot is out there, perhaps barely able to fly his battered up plane and aimed out at the center of empty desert, and these fools are trying to wrap me up in red tape! At least some of my men are on /that/ trail… Zechs… no, Milliardo Peacecraft, for you are now free… I hope you're all right.//  
  
Taking a tighter rein on his impatience, Treize heard the door behind him open, and set a slight frown in place to unsettle the visitor. //I hope you're all right, Milliardo… Because I might join you, out there and free, very shortly. And then we'll both need all the friends and allies we can get!//  
  
Turning, he found himself facing a rather… stiff seeming woman of middle height, with a complexion skewed by nature just enough to set any observer's teeth on edge. Her eyes were narrow, colder than the half- abandoned base in Antarctica, of a grim golden hue. Something about her encouraged cultured people like Treize to cringe in disgust at what the bowels of humanity vomited up. Luckily, Treize managed to retain his poker- face, though his mind reeled in shock behind the safety of that facade.  
  
//Good Lord… No wonder Romefeller hides someone like her out here, in the middle of nowhere…//  
  
Waving politely for her to be seated, Treize decided she must be of some importance here… if she was the one chosen to answer his questions. //So be it… I needn't gaze on her face, after all. I'm not here to find candidates for a beauty pageant!// "Madam, I have a few questions… I take it, as you are here, that you may have some answers for me?"  
  
Her eyes narrowed darkly. They somehow reminded him of a cruel wind deciding to gather its strength before shoving over some poor farmer's home, barn and all. "I am Karina Heldon. My research and that of my colleagues are the primary importance of this base, Mister Kushrenada, so we are eager that you and your men remove yourselves out of our way as soon as possible."  
  
//You want to get rid of me… and fast. I wonder why?// Turning back to the window, he considered the sands stretching out before him in the hot daylight. Most everyone in their right minds would have been napping about now, but he had refused to let them until his answers came. //I know I'm a pest… But I want my answers, and I want them /now/. What the heck did you guys do to Zechs!?!//  
  
"I've learned that one of my men were in the care of this base recently," Treize began quietly, voice deadly calm. "Perhaps his name is familiar… Colonel Zechs Merquise."  
  
Her faint reflection in the glass looked even more disgusted at that name—if that were possible. //Good God, woman, whatever did Zechs do to /you/?// Treize wondered, a bit surprised by that reaction. //He's a good man… or was until /you/ lot ruined him!//  
  
"The name is unfamiliar to me, but then, I haven't read about anyone recently brought to this base. As I said, I do research, not babysitting," she returned coldly.  
  
Frowning firmly at the glass, Treize fought the urge to clench his fists. //You know he was here… And I bet you had something to do with him during his stay. I want to know what you bastards did to him!// "Surely you'd recognize a description of him, then? He /is/ rather hard to miss, especially on a base of this size. Tall, long pale blonde hair, used to wear a silvery mask, if not still? If not you, then I'm /sure/ someone on this base has…"  
  
Miss Heldon made a face at Treize's back. "I suppose I may have seen him about. But he isn't here anymore, then."  
  
"I know… I believe he is the one responsible for the disarray of this base during my arrival." The thought made Treize feel smug. //Zechs got them back… a little, anyway… in his departure. Barney music… I'd never have considered that one!//  
  
"Then you no longer need to be here," came her icy reply.  
  
Turning to face her, Treize dropped a good portion of his façade. "Yes, I do. What did you and those of this base do to him?"  
  
Caught off guard for a moment, Miss Heldon jerked back a bit in surprise. Then her voice dropped into a snarl. "Be too merciful, in /my/ opinion. Why should you care? He's gone, free to return to you…" A cruel smile twisted her mouth slowly as she added, "if he's in any shape to do so… If not, you'll never find him, I expect."  
  
Confused, half-shocked by the scientist, Treize stared at her, mulling over her answer. Anger boiled up inside him, threatening to crack past his control. //How /dare/ she! He was a good man, a human being, damn it, not some bloody lab rat!// "What did you do to him," he demanded, voice deadly.  
  
The scientist smirked, and turned to go. "You can't do anything to me, Mister Kushrenada… Like the rest of this base, I am directly under Duke Dermail's orders… not /yours/. Go find your pretty little songbird that flew the coop. If you're lucky, you might find a feather, if you try hard enough…"  
  
It took everything Treize had not to wring her neck as she left the room.  
  
Slamming his fist against a nearby table in frustrated rage, the young general paced the room a moment, fuming. //So, now, Dermail, you're starting to hide even your projects from me? And replacing soldiers with remote-control toys… I can see the coup coming clearly enough… What was /my/ fate to be, hmmm? Following Zechs's to a hell-hole such as this?//  
  
Slamming his fist against the table once more, he froze sharply, teeth set in a death's grin. //That's IT. I'm taking those still loyal, and still sensible, and we're making a coup of our own. Let's see just who is right: me with my faith in humanity, or you and your mobile dolls…//  
  
His blue eyes strayed to the distant sands out the window once more.  
  
//Just as soon as I find where my old friend has vanished off to…//  
  
Calling for his loyal men, Treize's chilly smile warmed slyly. //The Gundam pilots' friends and allies aren't the only ones good at infiltrating bases. My men should have those surveillance tapes by now. Now we'll see what these mad scientists have been up to behind my back…//  
  
Mischief touched the young general's narrowed blue eyes. "And after that, Duke Dermail be hanged. We'll find Zechs… then show that man and this lot a /real/ war!"  
  
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To be continued… 


	7. Too Late To Sleep, Too Soon To Rise

That's Childish, So Childish...  
  
Chapter Seven: Too Late To Sleep, Too Soon To Rise...  
  
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Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. But hey, I /do/ own a cactus. You can sue, but I don't think it'll like you... Or you might not like it. It tends to drink blood. So it'd get revenge for me...  
  
Warnings: Sarcasm, maybe a little insanity, confusion, and potential medical detail (I don't know yet--I write these before the chapter! But really, little to worry about).  
  
Pairings: Looks like 6x2 later... at the end. Simply because with the current flow of plot, changing that's too hard. Or are the numbers the other way around? I don't know. You get the general idea, though. No, no sex, not even later on--don't even get your hopes up for that. For other pairings with Zechs, you'll have to look at my other fanfic, or future ones (give me time, I'll get to them).  
  
Duo, Quatre, and the Maganacs have a long talk and find out a few things about their visitor. As far as action goes, this actually has very little. Sorry.  
  
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Duo deposited his charge onto a broad bed covered by fair linen sheets that made the boy seem all the more pale in comparison. Quatre followed him into the room, curious as a cat, worried for the youth, and eager to help put this unusual visitor to a bed for the doctor to look over. Together, they began getting those dirty rags of clothing off...  
  
//Poor kid... Yeesh, what the heck's he been up to? He's got enough scars to be at least twice his age...// Duo mused grimly, before attacking a makeshift boot. //And all these things are hacked... Didn't he have /anything/ of his own? And speaking of things he should have with him, where are his parents, family, someone? Kids don't just go joyriding in military planes!//  
  
Something slipped from the boot-wrappings to clatter on the floor beside the bed.  
  
Frowning slightly, Duo finished taking those leather wrappings off and bent to pick it up as Quatre shook a sheet over the unconscious boy.  
  
//What the...? A disc? Is this boy some kind of spy?// Straightening, he smiled at the sight of Quatre neatly tucking the sheets about their charge. "Hey, Quatre, can your computer handle old floppies? Seems our little friend brought us some sort of calling card. May as well take a peek at it--maybe it'll shed light on a few things."  
  
The short blond Gundam pilot smiled slowly, nodding as he studied the disc. "Sure! I have to admit, I can't make any sense from what you told me--it all sounds so strange..."  
  
Pausing, Quatre looked down at that pale boy's face, that wild mane of silvery-white hair spilled about those elegant, aristocratic features like an innocent halo. Tentatively, Quatre touched his own chest, right above the heart, frowning slightly...  
  
Duo scratched the side of his head, bemused, eyes flicking from cute youth to confused friend. //I know he has some kind of instinct about people and things... He said as much, trying to tell me that Heero's not dead. Rashid and his people seem to have firm faith in it, too... So I wonder what it's telling him right now?//  
  
Neither blonde appeared to intend moving anytime soon, so Duo reached out to touch Quatre's shoulder and break the trance. "Hey, Quatre... Wake up."  
  
"Hmm?" Sandrock's pilot blinked, eyebrows arching a bit still as if confused by something, his hand still on his heart as he turned to face Duo. "Oh. Sorry. I just... There's just something very strange about this boy. Somehow, it seems to fit all the bizarre things you told me about, yet... I don't know. It's all so strange."  
  
A gentle cough from the doorway announced a slightly-pudgy doctor from the village, bag in hand, drawing the attention of both Gundam pilots.  
  
//I wonder what Quatre felt... But not here.// "Let's go on out and let the doctor do his business, Quatre," Duo suggested, tugging at the shoulder in his grasp before letting go and leading the way. //Then you can tell me about what your instinct just told you... I want to know more about our little foundling here.//  
  
Without a word, the empathic blonde followed Duo out to the den, seeming lost in thought even as Duo stuck the disc into the drive and began investigating it. The computer reported a wide array of files, none of which had names that caught Duo's attention and all of which requiring decompression... So he set the computer at the long task of opening up that condensed information.  
  
//Huh. I wonder what can be /that/ intriguing to Quatre about that kid...// Looking up after a moment from the computer's slow progress, Duo called gently, "Quatre..."  
  
"Hmmm? Yes? Oh. Sorry, Duo, I was just thinking." Quatre flushed, finally looking about for a chair and sitting down neatly in one Duo had left by the computer earlier that morning.  
  
//Penny for those thoughts? Or did inflation change that price?// Duo just chuckled and shook his head slowly. "That's okay... So, what did your Space-Heart tell you? Seems it told you /something/ interesting..."  
  
Quatre frowned at the floor, eyes worried and quite lost. "That's true... It's hard to make sense of it, though. That boy... What did he call himself again?"  
  
Duo mimicked Quatre's frown as he dug through his memories of the encounter. "Zechs Merquise... though he was about to say some other name."  
  
One of Quatre's eyebrows tilted towards his hairline slightly. "The Sixth Marquise? That's a strange name to give yourself. I wonder why... Though it fits, somehow... kind of."  
  
//Now you're over my head, Quatre. Hit reverse!// Shaking his head slowly, Duo smirked. "Back to the beginning, Quatre. You're losing me. First tell me what you picked up, okay?"  
  
Blushing with embarrassment, Quatre dipped his head. "Sorry, Duo. Um... Well, you know I can sense a few things about a person's personality, and a few things about their feelings?"  
  
//Not really, but that makes your special ability a bit clearer...// Duo nodded, though, so Quatre would stay on the current topic and not wander off again on a sidetrack.  
  
"Okay, well... About him, um... He's a bit complex. There's something noble about him, something strong and fierce and determined and kind... yet he's insecure, too. What I can gather from his emotions, he's... torn, very confused and badly hurt, almost broken inside. But there's more..." Quatre frowned firmly at the floor as if some puppy had piddled on his sandal right now in front of him.  
  
//Almost broken? Sheesh, poor kid... What the hell did those guys do to him?// "Hey, don't zone out on me now, Quatre! What else is there?"  
  
The blonde pilot jerked, and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. It's just... He doesn't fit. He feels... older than he looks, and a /lot/ older at that. It's not just experiences he's gone through... Something else is involved. And... well, he's dangerous. When he wants to be... As dangerous as you or me."  
  
Duo scratched at his chin thoughtfully a moment, frowning slightly at Quatre. //Well... I suppose that last makes some sense, if the kid got a transport plane this far with a Gundam inside, on his own. But... Older. Huh. So it's not just me...//  
  
"Something about him just... isn't right." Quatre stated softly, looking pained. "Not in a bad sense--I mean something's going on with him physically or mentally or emotionally and it's just... out of place. And it's skewing other things about him."  
  
//That's one way to put it, I guess,// Duo decided. "That fits my impression of him. He's one weird kid..."  
  
They both delved into their thoughts for a long moment. Duo gazed blankly at the screen before him, brushing bangs from his eyes. //Weird kid... And what are we going to /do/ with him and his stuff? Heck, I'm at a loss. It's like getting a Christmas invitation from Treize Kushrenada for the five of us to drop in for eggnog and peace talks...//  
  
Again, a throat cleared at the doorway--the doctor stepped into the room. "Ahrm... Master Quatre? I think there are a few things... a few things you may want to know..."  
  
//What? What's wrong with the kid?// Duo stiffened, straightening in the seat. "Hey, is he going to be all right?" //Sheesh, I know he looked like hell, but still...//  
  
The gentle doctor shook his head firmly. "He will be fine with some rest and food and time to recover. He began to wake as I was working, so I gave him some pain medication--he will sleep for a couple hours more. None of the damage is permanent, I assure you, and rest is most vital to him now. But... there are things I wish to draw attention to all of you who may have to deal with him..."  
  
Quatre nodded slowly, rising to his feet. "I'll get Rashid, then. Let's meet in the dining room."  
  
Glancing at the computer, which was still sorting through and organizing the mixture of data from the disc, Duo followed his fellow pilot's example. //It'll still be here. I can look at it after the meeting. This doesn't sound like good news... Sheesh, that kid's got a bad streak of luck...// "Hey, Doc, I'll show you the way, then..."  
  
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Sitting at one end of the dining room table with Quatre, Rashid, and the village doctor, Duo fought the urge to squirm with impatience in his chair.  
  
//What else can go wrong for that kid? Will any of this help us make sense of what little he told us? What can we do about him? Or those mobile suits? Yeesh, this is confusing... I hope at least that disc he had has something helpful.// he sighed mentally. //At least it's getting our minds off what's happening in space, though, and our recent lack of orders...//  
  
"You said it is important," Rashid stated softly, eyeing the doctor curiously, breaking the silence in the warm room.  
  
//Thank God they know how to build here--to make the indoors as cool as possible,// Duo reflected happily. //Could be a lot worse... Though these dark clothes /are/ getting a bit hot... Not that I mind being warm, but after this, I think I might change into something lighter.//  
  
The pudgy doctor shifted uncertainly in his chair, then began, "Well, I don't know how much you know about that boy... To all appearances, he's about seven or eight years old and coming to another growth spurt. His reflex-speeds are extraordinary! I injected a sedative, as he didn't seem too happy to find me next to him, which is understandable in his case... But after that... things are... strange."  
  
Quatre tilted his head, interested. "Strange? How, Doctor Hassan?"  
  
Sighing softly, the doctor looked at his hands on the table top. "I can confirm this, if needed, but... When people are growing, there are certain... spaces within joints not full of bone yet, and some that you can feel by hand. I'm fairly certain his are mostly fused already. And the scars... are too old for someone so young. He'd have to have been a baby when some of them occurred, and cuts like that--it's just not likely. Except for the recent burns, cuts, and bruises, all his injuries are old, just far too old... It doesn't fit."  
  
The man paused, then continued, "That includes when he was brutalized."  
  
Duo frowned at that, glancing at Rashid. //The boy reacted too fast for it to have been anything less than recent.// The older man was frowning as well, as if agreeing with Duo's thoughts. Quatre hadn't been told about that--he'd paled at the news.  
  
"But... He's only a boy," Sandrock's kind pilot breathed, horrified.  
  
"I'm... I'm honestly not sure about that," the doctor admitted quietly. "In part, he may act and be seven, but... in part, he may not be. I can try some blood tests--after he eats--and see what they say about him. He's a bit undernourished and dehydrated, and that much is definitely recent. I can tell you he was bound and tormented at a time, but that's among the more recent scars. He's also broken his ribs a multitude of times, and last not too long ago--his bones still bear the bumps where they've healed. Otherwise... well, I'd see what he can tell you by himself. To be honest, I don't think the blood tests will confirm his age either way."  
  
Duo shifted his gaze to the table, guessing the others were lost to their own thoughts. //Young, yet old...? Looks like only he can sort out this puzzle for us!//  
  
"I guess we go talk to him, then, after he wakes up and starts eating," Deathscythe's pilot offered. "Meanwhile, I can see what that disc I found on him says. It might help us confirm what is definite to be a wild story..."  
  
Rashid nodded slowly. "There doesn't appear to be any other way to understand what happened. I will have someone bring his things into that room... But there is one more thing that may help us."  
  
Quatre, too, had been nodding quiet agreement, but Rashid's words caught his attention. "What, Rashid?" he asked hopefully. "It looks like we may need all the information we can get on him... Perhaps he can guide us to where Trowa and Heero are! He had Heero's Gundam after all..."  
  
"This," Rashid stated, picking up something he'd placed on the floor by his feet, and setting it on the table with a "clomp".  
  
A silvery mask, almost birdlike in appearance, with glass over the eyeholes. A long crack traced from the top center down to the left and through one eyeglass. Faint bloodstains marked the interior, smeared the outer silvery surface, filled the crack. Also caught in the crack... a hair...  
  
"A... helmet?" Quatre wondered.  
  
"A mask," Rashid corrected absently--then started as if that word stirred something at the edges of his memory.  
  
Duo reached out, picking up that hair carefully. Long, silvery-white, familiar... //The boy's...// He remembered seeing something silvery in the boy's lap when they met...  
  
"This was his?" //Why would he wear a mask? And why is it cracked? Why would he keep it afterwards, damaged like this?//  
  
Nodding, the Maganac Corps's leader frowned firmly at the strange headgear, as if that alone would make it give up its secrets. "It certainly seems so... Something about it is familiar--and it makes me think I heard that name before... `Zechs Merquise'... Something to do with Oz. I will have to check our files, and talk to the others."  
  
Duo stared at the mask, too, eyes narrowed determinedly. //A mask... I don't think this can get any weirder! But... There's something important about this thing--I can feel it.//  
  
//It has to be in those files on the disc.//  
  
Standing abruptly, Deathscythe's pilot didn't take his eyes off the battered headgear as he stated, "I'll see what I can find on that disc... Mind you, I'm no hacker like Heero, though, but I've a feeling between you and me, Rashid, we're going to find the truth about this kid."  
  
"I've a feeling that the truth won't be pretty," Quatre breathed softly, hand to heart again, a worried look in his eyes as he gazed into space. "That earthquake I mentioned before... may be nearer than we thought."  
  
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Once again, Duo frowned at the material he'd been going over with the doctor about. Uncertainly, he scratched at his ear, as if that gesture would make this tangle clearer by scraping away whatever was hiding the missing pieces of this puzzle from him.  
  
//I'm... I'm not sure I can make myself believe this. How could anything make someone... younger? And why try it on a kid?// "So you're sure about this stuff? That's really what this experimenting bunch is trying to do?" he asked the portly man, wishing his ears had betrayed him.  
  
Solemnly, also frowning a bit, though he seemed more intrigued than upset, the doctor nodded slowly. "That's the quick version of what this material states. It goes a great deal into the methods--something about using hormones and manipulating the body's metabolism, sort of reversing things..."  
  
Shaking his head, Duo stared at the sheets he'd given the doctor. "And they experimented on this kid?"  
  
"There's really not much data about his condition before they started, so it's hard to tell. Maybe they didn't get a chance," the older man suggested gently. "Basically, it just has his name on the subject list, and that he was added in the last minute, somewhat injured... Hrmmm... Now that's a thought."  
  
Duo blinked, still struggling to comprehend the facts recently stated and so not anxious for more unsettling information. //Huh? I hope it's a theory, mister--this is just... There's too many pieces, and they aren't fitting much at all.// Hopefully, but not expecting much, Deathscythe's pilot dared ask, "What is?"  
  
Glancing over the research data again, the doctor explained, "Well... This might explain his scars. By playing with his metabolism... they may have sped up his healing. In other words, he may have been in no shape to object to /becoming/ a test subject... and after the treatment, they don't seem to have expected he'd be physically healed and capable of escape. And it had to be escape--this data's not complete, and I'm fairly certain they wouldn't have let a test subject go easily at such a stage..."  
  
That made Duo's stomach churn sickeningly. //God... A human guinea pig after they tortured him. How could they do that to a person?!? It's just so... How could anyone /do/ that?//  
  
"They tested that on a /child/?" Quatre's horrified voice burst from the doorway.  
  
Duo turned to offer his fellow pilot a look of mixed sympathy and understanding.  
  
But the doctor was replying hesitantly, "It's possible the stuff worked--and he /wasn't/ a child to begin with..."  
  
//You're kidding!// "You mean--that stuff they were trying to make...?" Duo stammered disbelievingly.  
  
"They /did/ make some Fountain-of-Youth potion, then?" Quatre continued, equally amazed. "But... I thought that kind of thing was tried before and never worked!"  
  
Shrugging sheepishly, Doctor Hassan admitted, "There /have/ been advances in our knowledge of the mechanics of the human body... but I'm no expert in that end."  
  
"Then perhaps what I found is more useful than I realized," rumbled a deep voice over Quatre's head.  
  
The short blonde pilot looked up, beaming. "Rashid! You found something?"  
  
//Maybe the pieces /will/ fit together now,// Duo dared hope, smiling warily at the tall Maganac. "Hey, is it good news?"  
  
As Quatre moved to take a seat at the dining room table again, beside Duo, the Maganac shrugged, striding slowly in the younger man's wake. "That may depend entirely on the boy..."  
  
"What did you find?" Quatre piped up eagerly. "He seemed nice enough, from what all of you told me, though I have yet to talk to him."  
  
Rashid frowned slightly, and resumed the seat he had taken at their earlier meeting, the handful of papers clasped in one hand now being set gently on the smooth, polished wood. "I've found our notes on the /man/ known as Zechs Merquise... of Oz."  
  
//Man... Then he was an adult? And part of Oz? That doesn't make sense, that last bit. Why would they try out such weird stuff on one of their own?// "Let's hear it, then... I'm getting too confused to speculate on more ideas of why this or that may be. It'll be easier to see what facts we have, first."  
  
At Quatre's nod, Rashid tapped the papers with a large forefinger and began. "The information's very limited, to be truthful. He always was a rather obscure figure, staying--and working--in Treize's shadow, not terribly popular with the Alliance but idolized by the younger Oz Specials soldiers. Apparently the latter gave him the nickname `Lightening Count' for his near-legendary skills as an ace pilot and quick reflexes... Last we have on him, he was made a Colonel and rumored to be deep in the activity against the Gundams..."  
  
A slow suspicious look touched Quatre's cheerful features. "Wait a minute... Is /he/ why all of you are so insistent I have you to back me up when we have a mission?"  
  
To Duo's surprise, Rashid nodded grimly, sliding a picture forward for all to scrutinize. "Yes... We knew Oz had a true, experienced, ace mobile suit pilot up their sleeves, but who and where weren't known offhand. If you consider that the white suit in the boy's plane is, to all appearances, the same as the one that suicidal Gundam pilot faced in Siberia, the man is quite dangerous... And if the boy is the same person as the man..."  
  
As one, both Gundam pilots looked down at the picture. A tall young man, impeccably dressed in his scarlet Oz uniform, stood on the platform of an Aries, long white-blonde hair caught mid-flutter from the wind, silvery mask gleaming sharply in the light as he faced the horizon, demeanor scrutinizing, predatory, though the majority of his face was obscured by the headgear, hiding his expression...  
  
//It's... Heck, this guy could be the kid's older brother... But if that stuff /worked/... Why would they do that to their best? It's insane! How can this cold figure be that cute kid...?// Duo could only stare at the picture, emotions in turmoil. Yet as he studied the figure of the Oz pilot, he found himself biting his lip, thoughts straying along an unexpected path. //He's pretty darn hot-looking, though... Oh God, Duo, what are you thinking?!? Oz's best pilot would likely shoot you and say hello after! Don't get any silly ideas...//  
  
Flushing hotly, Deathscythe's pilot forced his thoughts back to the kid. "So... Are we sure, then? This guy is now... that kid?" //It sounds wild... Like a fairy-tale.//  
  
Quatre's sad eyes sank back to the picture, then he pushed it over to Duo, nodding. "It... it fits that way. What I felt, what all of you found... It has to be him. It's hard to believe... but it explains a lot. Somehow, something happened to him--he was hurt, then... used in that experiment thing." The pale-haired Gundam pilot's eyes closed briefly, recalling the doctor's full report. "I wonder what happened to him. Something must be going on /within/ Oz..."  
  
Duo looked back down at the picture, feeling almost guilty. //I wouldn't wish such a fate even on an enemy...// Sliding fingers over the frozen flicker of long pale hair, he imagined those sad, innocent blue eyes again, under that mask--and felt anger stir deep inside, his eyes hardening. //Hell... How could they betray you? You were their best, their secret card, and heck, you look good enough to worship, so I don't blame those pilots Rashid mentioned idolizing you...//  
  
"I think we need to talk to him," Duo stated softly, eyes not flickering from the picture. Those sad, pale blue eyes lingered in his mind, and his heart surrendered to their gentle gaze. "It's only right we hear his side... and why he's out here."  
  
Quatre slowly nodded, thoughtful. "That's true..."  
  
Rashid smiled wryly, rising to his feet. "A child should be easier to guard than a man, and for that I am thankful. Our last notes mentioned... he was quite deadly." He strode from the room in two swift steps.  
  
Duo blinked at the man's back, feeling a touch sorry for the sedated youth. //From one imprisonment to another... They almost broke him, Quatre said. Will this finish what they started?//  
  
Quatre just shifted his gaze back to the picture, sighing, looking uncertain, torn. "I just don't know... I've a feeling he's the least of our worries."  
  
//I hope you're wrong, Quatre,// Duo sighed mentally. ///I/ expect he'll be quite a handful, if even half of what we think happened is true!//  
  
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To be continued. 


	8. Then You Wake Up And Remember That You C...

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Eight: Then You Wake Up And Remember That You Can't Forget!  
  
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Disclaimer: Who owns Gundam Wing again? All together now… Bansai and Sunrise! You never know—by the end of this, maybe we'll be singing it… I hope not. Oh, by the way, the old fish died finally. Too late to sue me!  
  
Warnings: Sarcasm, some medical term stuff… Sorry, nothing blows up.  
  
Pairings: 2x6 eventually it seems, by the end, but until 6 is an adult again, don't expect anything more than friendship.  
  
Zechs wakes up, and has a chat with Duo and Quatre. Treize starts down a path that may collide with the new desert alliance. Meanwhile, Trowa and Heero consider finding Quatre and the Manganacs.  
  
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Zechs twisted about in the sheets, moaning quietly. He could see the palace burning around him, smell the blood and burning flesh, see bloody streaks on the walls and floor where the fire had yet to spread, hear the roar of flames, falling stone, gunfire outside… Screams of people trying to escape only to run into the firing squad made of Alliance soldiers waiting in mobile suits and on foot… and he was still inside, running the maze of corridors in desperate hopes of finding an unguarded exit…  
  
//Fire, fire all around… Father! Father, how could they do this?!? They were your friends—and friends of friends… I thought… And now… I can't get out! Father! FATHER! So much blood—fire—oh let me out, please let me out! I'm sorry—I'm sorry! I have to leave—they'll kill me, and someone has to… Someone has to rescue Sanc… I'm sorry! There's no-one else—no- one at all, just me...! I'm a coward—I should stay, be brave, face them—I can't! I /can't/! /You/ said the people come first—I /have/ to rescue them… Fire and blood… Fire and blood… I'm a coward, a coward…//  
  
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry—they'll kill me! Have to get out…" Shaking his head, he gripped at the sheets tighter. "There's no-one left, no-one else… A coward, I'm such a coward…"  
  
Shivering, he shook his head again, as if in defiance or negation, though of what he could never define. "The people come first… Have to… Have to…!"  
  
Behind closed eyes, he could see the floor collapsing beneath him, and cried out as he fell what felt like an endless height—  
  
"Noooo!"  
  
And found himself sitting upright in the sheets, gasping for breath, soaked in sweat with his long ragged bangs plastered to his skin, in a dark, unfamiliar room. Sounds of the desert night echoed nearby, through the open door and high windows. Weak moonlight offered vague grey shadows, hinting that the room had furnishings beyond just the bed and nightstand…  
  
//I'm… I'm starting to lose it, I think. Where do the nightmares end, and memories begin anymore? It all feels like it happened yesterday, /all/ of it, the falling of Sanc, everything… But if it did, the rest is a dream of revenge that never happened. Did it? How can it? I'm… It's… I'm losing it. I'm can't find reality anymore—I'm losing it…// Confused, still feeling the aftereffects of his nightmares, Zechs rubbed at his face with his hands, pushing long bangs back from his face. Soft cloth scraped against his skin—light bandages covering his burns and cuts, nearly hiding his hands…  
  
The faintest of rustling sounds told him he wasn't alone.  
  
Disoriented by both nightmares and his tangled memories, feeling vulnerable due to the naked state of things as well as his lack of weaponry at hand, Zechs shivered and pulled the sheets tighter about himself, asking uncertainly, "Who…? Who is it?"  
  
"That was some nightmare, kid," a familiar cheerful voice grudged as Duo's form detached itself from the shadows under the windows.  
  
Zechs puffed a breath of relief, though he bristled slightly. //Why is he here? To watch me yell in my sleep?// "Why?" He let one word ask everything.  
  
The shadowy figure in his dark clothes pulled a chair from somewhere in the semi-darkness, turned it around, and sat down so he could fold his arms across the backrest. "Well, I /did/ say Duo Maxwell hides, didn't I? And you have to admit, when we met, there wasn't much time to hear your story. This—watching someone's dreams and nightmares—was one way to gather a bit… Though I have to admit, it's a lot less coherent than hearing you tell the thing."  
  
Zechs could only stare at him with large eyes, feeling Duo's words slide over him without comprehending much of it. Frustrated, still feeling disoriented, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose with a wrapped finger. //I'm not sure what he means… Oh hell. Focus, Miri, focus! Back to basics…//  
  
"Who rules Sanc?" he demanded abruptly, looking up again.  
  
Duo's shadow jerked backward in what was likely surprise at such an unrelated question. "What…? Who rules… where? Where'd /that/ question come from?"  
  
Frowning, Zechs glared at the Gundam pilot. "Who rules /Sanc/ right now? The Alliance? Or…?"  
  
Seeming incredulous, Duo stood up again and paced a little, rubbing the back of his head. "Sanc, Sanc… Uh, I'm not good with those little Earth countries, though it sounds vaguely familiar…" Suddenly, the young man snapped his fingers. "I know! The little revived kingdom! It was on the news recently—how Relena Dorlian turned out to be actually the Vice Foreign Minister's adopted daughter and really a Peacecraft by blood… I remember telling myself that Heero'd get a kick out of hearing that about his stalker girlfriend…"  
  
//Relena… Okay, then I /did/ set it free—and that's the reality… Relena… Wait a minute!// Young Milliardo stared at Duo as if the young man had grown a second head and was threatening to grow a third. Cold fire stirred slowly behind pale blue eyes… ///Stalker girlfriend/?!?// "Stalker…?"  
  
Chuckling, Duo nodded at the half question, resuming his seat. "Yeah, well, Heero—01, to you—enrolled in her school early on, and when he and I joined another one, she followed. Seems intent on sitting him down for a long chat about peace and such, but after seeing her true roots, is it surprising? Anyway, it's a long story, and I'm not saying more about it until you give me /your/ long tale… By the way, what brought that up, anyway?"  
  
//I guess she's just trying to press for peace… though what she's doing sounds pretty naive… Should I tell him? I don't think… Not that I'm Miri, no. I'll be lucky if he believes me when I tell him I was six feet plus… Heck, /I/ still barely believe me!// Looking down at his hands, Miri was quiet for a long moment, feeling his brief anger fade and depression start setting in. //What'll happen to me? Will I lose my mind entirely?//  
  
Duo's concerned voice was gentle. "Hey, I don't go about blabbing unless it's important. Can't last as a Gundam pilot by telling everything you know, you know? But if you don't want to right now, I guess I can understand—you don't know us too well, either…"  
  
Something within Miri stirred, making a significant crack in the remainders of his old control, upon hearing that understanding voice say that…  
  
"I think I'm starting to lose my mind… my hold on reality," Zechs blurted quietly, shuddering as the words escaped.  
  
His eyes closed. //Now I've done it. There's no way anyone'll believe me—let alone help me—now…//  
  
Duo remained silent, unmoving in the backwards chair.  
  
"My memories… The past feels like the present, and they all get tangled—I've no sense of time between them anymore… After the nightmares, they're so fresh—hard to believe that many of them were over ten years ago…" Resting his head in his bandaged hands, Milliardo gripped his hair with wrapped fingers, a futile motion to resolve all the confusion in his skull. //I'm losing it… I may very well lose it completely tomorrow when I wake up… How long will my sanity stay?//  
  
"You don't look ten," came Duo's blunt reply, though it carried an edge, quite unsurprised.  
  
Looking up a bit, Zechs blinked slowly in the dim light. //Does he… know? How could he… Could they already know?... But how…? The disk! Did they understand it, what was on it?// "I'm not… as I look. As I feel! I /know/ I'm much older… taller… Or /was/… I didn't have time to sort out what was done to me—I had to get out of there before they could do worse."  
  
Duo just seemed to stare at him in the shadowy room.  
  
Relaxing his hands back into his lap, Zechs stared at them dispiritedly. Mechanically, he started the standard prisoner's rote. //Name, number, rank, description… I should be able to recite it in my sleep—I wish I /did/, rather than have those nightmares.// "Name: Zechs Merquise. Rank: Colonel, Oz Specials… Number: 2599634786… Age… Age…" //My head… My head /hurts/!// "Damn it, why is that always the hardest now?!?"  
  
"Nineteen?" supplied a gentle but mischievous voice beside the bed. Duo.  
  
//He knows, then… The disk… Oh, what does it matter anymore? Let them kill you before you go through the indignity of insanity!// Startled ice blue eyes closed slowly. "You know everything, then… My files… You managed to read all that medical jargon, too…"  
  
"Nah, not really. We had a doctor translate into plain English." Duo chuckled quietly, tone smug… then the tone dropped to that gentle note again. "They really screwed you over, it sounds like…"  
  
Zechs winced at the term, but didn't look up.  
  
"Why'd they play with you? What'd you do to make them hate you so much? You were one of their own, their best…" Duo couldn't seem to curtail his curiosity.  
  
//I wanted revenge… They couldn't give me justice, after all…// Milliardo opened his eyes again, but didn't lift his head. "I slipped… Romefeller might fear me, and they're in control now… They fear for good reason, though."  
  
A cough. Duo leaned forward on his folded arms. "Romefeller? I thought they're just financial guys—big money, big titles, no brains, mostly strut…"  
  
Zechs simply shook his head, staring past his hands at an image of fire consuming familiar palace walls. //They might be… what that general meant before I shot him. They gave the orders, maybe?// Distantly, he admitted, "I thought so, too… until recently… Romefeller's a conglomerate of nobility—who want power. You get what you pay for—and they essentially paid for Oz, their own private army… Only now they're more visible, more active—starting to take control. Treize won't last much longer, I think."  
  
He heard Duo's breath come out in a soft whistle. "Then it's bigger than even /we/ thought… Damn… And here I wanted to take my vacation at year's end! Why would they be afraid of you, though, if they're cutting Treize out?"  
  
Shivering, Zechs drew the sheets a bit closer about his bare body and scooted back so he could lean against the pillows. His body was still so very tired, in need of a little healing pampering. //They know—I could walk in and trample the lot of them just by announcing to the world my real name… They don't know that I'd rather work as a plowhand on an antiquated farm than hold power like that over others… Add on my tendency for revenge, and Tallgeese, and… it makes sense. But I don't want to drag Sanc into this…//  
  
Instead, Milliardo offered softly, "I joined Oz for revenge against certain members of the Alliance, and to undo some of their past efforts… I achieved my goals, though now I wonder if my revenge didn't target /all/ those responsible—that maybe /Romefeller/ is what I missed earlier. Only a certain duel that still needs finishing has kept me with Oz… a duel with the pilot of 01… And Romefeller knows all this, I suspect."  
  
Duo stared at him for a long time after that admission… until Zechs dared look up through his long bangs, uncomfortable with this long silence.  
  
"And after that? What were you going to do then?" Duo asked quietly.  
  
Blinking, Zechs wiped hair from his eyes. "After that…? I haven't considered that far ahead," he admitted honestly, feeling like his soul was bared to the world, but not really caring right now. It felt… necessary. And what could they do to him that wasn't already done? Duo was giving him the most fair-handed and understanding audience he'd had since he'd first met Noin. "I… rather expected to die achieving my goals… I suppose I'll just die in that duel… He—Heero, you called him—has more reason to win, more drive, than I do…"  
  
Feeling a touch of dampness growing in his eyes, Miri turned his head away, to look at the open doorway. //I sold my life and soul… There /is/ no "after that".// "I gave up my life—my identity—probably my soul—to undo the Alliance's cruelty… I'm not expecting a refund."  
  
"Man, and I thought /Heero/ was depressing and suicidal!" Duo laughed, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his head. "Kid—"  
  
//Enough "kid" business…// "I thought we already established—I'm not a kid," Zechs grumbled. His young voice wasn't suited for growling.  
  
Duo shook his head, chuckling. "Zechs, then… Man, you need to loosen up and enjoy life a little! There's more to life than saving the world, you know. We're all trying to do that—in our own ways. But you have to take the time to look at the stars now and then, or you won't know what you're fighting for…"  
  
Pale blue eyes sank back to his lap, as Zechs considered those words carefully. //He… He has a point.//  
  
The audible—and painful—growling of his stomach drew Miri out of his reverie with an embarrassed flush. "Ah… sorry… I think I need that meal we spoke about earlier…" //I hope it's not the standard prisoner's rock- hard bread and water again. That's stale even before it arrives, and I can count my own ribs right now, so it's a bad diet plan…//  
  
Nodding, Deathscythe's pilot got to his feet again and turned for the door. "I'll get you something. Maybe Quatre, too—he needs to hear what you told me, and I think you should meet our host finally. Don't try and go anywhere, okay? There's still stuff we have to sort out…"  
  
Silently, Zechs nodded slowly, giving his bond for the moment. //At least this lot seems a bit more… humane than Romefeller's base. And where would I go, anyway? It's pure desert out there… and nobody's left me a stitch!//  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Duo kept his pace quick as he walked through the dark halls, Quatre scurrying at his side with a tray of food as Duo carried an oil lamp to light their way so they wouldn't bump into things. The blonde pilot had been surprised to be woken, but eager to talk to their prisoner, now that he had a chance. "I think he's a good guy—and was, before, under that cold exterior," Sandrock's pilot had stated.  
  
//And I needed Quatre to find the food in this place. Sure, it /looks/ easy, when food's brought to you… But backtracking it to its source isn't something I usually do. And I need to hurry, just in case… I really hope Zechs didn't decide to vanish off while I was out, but… you never know. And he did say… He said he felt he was starting to lose his mind… God only knows what /I'd/ do, if it were me…//  
  
They turned the corner and stepped into the room, Duo lifting the light to see—  
  
//Ah yes, still here.//  
  
Zechs hadn't moved from the bed. Pillows had been pushed against the headboard, so he could be sitting up, and long pale hair gleamed like a moonlit river on the soft cloth. The boy's head was down, ragged bangs obscuring his face and hiding his eyes from the world and the light…  
  
In fact, he hadn't reacted to the light.  
  
//Is he okay?// Concern jumped through Duo's nerves, and he set the lamp down on a small table, stepping over to the bed. "Hey, kid… Zechs…"  
  
No answer…  
  
Worried now, Duo reached out to give a bare shoulder a little shake. "Hey, Zechs, wake up…"  
  
Pale blue eyes opened—and in the next instant, the boy jerked away so fast he almost materialized at the far side of the bed. Panting, hands clenched into fists, body tensed as if to leap away—or /at/—those facing him in self- defense, Zechs's eyes glared at Duo with a mix of pain, fear, defiance… and an almost hateful rage.  
  
Those eyes rocked Duo back a step. //Good God…// He could hear behind him Quatre's quick intake of breath out of surprise and dismay. //He's like a cornered animal.//  
  
But that look swiftly faded to embarrassment, almost sheepish—an almost amusing expression to see on the youth's face. "I… I'm sorry… Just… don't do that, please. I told you—my memories—/everything/ feels very recent at times."  
  
Duo breathed a soft sigh. //Ouch!// "Sorry about that. But if you don't eat now, your stomach's growling will probably wake everyone else up before morning."  
  
"Do you think you can manage a spoon with your hands like that?" Quatre asked immediately, concerned, bringing the tray over and waiting for the boy to settle back among the pillows before depositing the load on Zechs's lap. "I'm Quatre Rabera Winner, by the way—"  
  
That made the boy rip his eager gaze up from the enticing meal on his lap, blinking large eyes in the lamplight. "Winner…? The wealthy family that nearly owns a colony?"  
  
//Am I the only one who didn't recognize Quatre's last name immediately?// Duo thought with some consternation, taking his seat on his backwards chair again.  
  
Quatre had seated himself on the side of the bed, by the foot, far enough away not to make Zechs uncomfortable. And the innocent Gundam pilot flushed in the limited light, bowing his head sheepishly. "Yes, well… I'm kind of the black sheep of the family, I guess…"  
  
"Quatre here's a Gundam pilot, too," Duo supplied. //He may as well know.// "The one with the thermal sickles—"  
  
"They're scimitars, Duo, and they're heat shorters," Quatre corrected gently. "I call it 'Sandrock'."  
  
"04," Zechs identified quietly, looking from one to the other, his pale eyes seeming sad again, resigned.  
  
Those eyes almost broke Duo's heart. //I'm sorry… that we're enemies… or were…// "Hey, eat up, 'kiddo'—your stew's getting cold."  
  
But Zechs didn't touch the spoon on the tray. He just looked down at it uncaringly.  
  
Quatre glanced at Duo—his expression slightly hurt. "It's safe, I promise… There's nothing in the food."  
  
"What… will happen to me?" Zechs asked very quietly, almost too softly for Duo or Quatre to catch.  
  
Both Gundam pilots looked at each other again, uncomfortably, at that question.  
  
//Does… does he think we intend to kill him?// Duo wondered. //But… he's a /kid/. Even if he wasn't before, he is now… I don't think we can kill him…//  
  
"Why did you… give us all the information you did?" Quatre asked carefully in reply, surprising Duo with the question.  
  
//Quatre?!? It's a good question, but still… a bit more like something I'd say. Then again, I sometimes forget he's as much a killer as the rest of us Gundam pilots… and /good/ at it, too, when he has to be.// "I'd like to know, too," Duo added belatedly.  
  
That lowered head shook slightly, side to side, making silvery hair flow about him like disturbed water. "Because… it doesn't matter. Or rather—/I/ don't matter, at least not now… /Someone/ has to stop them… Romefeller's worse than the Alliance ever was… And I can't give justice—it's not mine to give… At best I can only give revenge…" Despair and resignation covered his words with hopeless shades.  
  
Duo closed his eyes in pain, remembering… //Maxwell Church… Well, /I/ think sometimes justice and revenge are the same things!// Opening them again, he cast a determined smile the pale boy's way. "Sometimes, you know… they're the same thing, justice and revenge. I think we're on the same side here, though…"  
  
"That's right," Quatre added, smiling warmly. "We shouldn't be fighting when we have the same goals—the same enemy. We should work together."  
  
Zechs lifted his head slowly, eyes bright in the moonlight—tinged with hope finally. "Are you… are you sure? I'm not exactly… well…" A wave of a bandaged hand indicated his current state and situation. "I can't offer much… I'm not even sure how long I might be sane…"  
  
Chuckling, Duo shook his head. //Somehow… I think that's not as big a handicap as he may consider it…// "Hey, you still flew a plane somehow… and we can cue you to which era you're in when you need it."  
  
"/And/ you brought two impressive mobile suits out of Oz—Romefeller's—hands," Quatre contributed, grinning brightly. "And you probably know more about both organizations than we do! Will you join us?"  
  
The boy's ice blue eyes echoed the slowly growing smile beneath them. "I think… Yes. Though if you'd let me, I'd like to spare a few old friends' lives…" The smile faded to pain. "Those that are left, anyway… I've lost too many in this war."  
  
Both Gundam pilots nodded enthusiastically. Duo felt like cheering. //Hey, this'll be neat! I bet he has the scoop on everything in Oz—after all, he was pretty close to Treize…//  
  
"Sure! Who?" Quatre inquired eagerly. "Do you think they'd want to help us, too?"  
  
"I think I can convince them… or /could/, if I were my normal self… Though I'm not sure you'll want them," came the hesitant answer. "Noin—she's already out of Oz, if I know her at all… But… ah… the other is… Treize."  
  
Duo gaped. Quatre looked like someone slapped him on the back of the head with a nine-iron.  
  
//TREIZE?!? He's kidding! I mean, sure, he said Romefeller might be targeting the guy next but… him, join US? Though I have to admit, I'd never have expected the cute kid—er, Zechs here—to join us, either, so…//  
  
"Ah… I think we'll have to consider Treize, um, maybe another time—discuss it later, maybe," Quatre offered weakly. "Him… I really don't know, but it's really a moot point right now…"  
  
Duo's eyes flicked to Zechs's stew, and he smirked over the back of his chair, gesturing at the cooling meal. "Yeah, we've bigger things to deal with right now than His Excellency… Like your stew, remember?"  
  
Zechs actually laughed. But he /did/ listen.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
His Excellency Treize Kushrenada, meanwhile, stared gape-jawed at the frozen screen before him, flabbergasted. He'd been at it for a full minute. He had yet to manage to get free of the shock currently binding his brain in tight webbing.  
  
This /couldn't/ be real.  
  
Coherent thought was currently on hold due to the intellectual traffic jam in his skull. Someone had slammed with full strength on the brakes on the busy, fast-moving highways of thought—all of them at the same instant.  
  
Until an irrational thought decided to reset the traffic signals with, //Well, he still makes a rather cute kid…//  
  
Then coherent thought managed to move again. Albeit a bit sluggishly at first.  
  
Treize called out sharply to his pilot, "Signal ahead for a briefing on surrounding Alliance activities to be reported to me. And tell the search teams to do their hunt from above radar levels so as not to be noticed. Then have them meet us at the Oz Congo Training Base to report to me in person. I want satellite photos of the entire search area—the entire range that plane could have gone—and I want experts looking for that plane or what may have happened to it…"  
  
//God, Milliardo, this cannot be easy on you… Do you remember that day in full now? Do you remember the pain that drove you into my hands, to join Oz in a desperate means of fulfilling your silent promises to the dead?//  
  
The young General gazed sadly at the masked boy on the screen in ragged clothes, armed with toys and a determined grimace…  
  
//Who are you? Prince or soldier? Do you remember /us/—or the past?//  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------  
  
Also, somewhere in southern Europe…  
  
"They're catching onto us. We have to get out of here. And they're surely watching the port and airports for anything as large as a mobile suit," a soft voice murmured in an old hangar, green eyes glinting over an apple.  
  
The bandaged figure before him said nothing for a long moment, Prussian blue eyes concealing a swirl of calculations. Then, Heero finally answered, "By land, then. We can't stay and be found."  
  
"If we could get a plane, we could get you a mobile suit from the Maganacs…"  
  
"We have to keep your Heavyarms from their hands, first," came the noncommittal reply. The bandaged figure in the shadows moved towards the mobile suit truck. "But another suit may be useful later on."  
  
Another long pause, as the pair silently got into the truck and started it up, working together with efficient smoothness. The truck grunted to life, creaking as it backed out of the old hangar and started along narrow European streets for the highway traffic.  
  
"The checkpoints shouldn't be a problem. Passports might be, though," Trowa murmured after a bit. "Unless I can get Oz papers…"  
  
"If you can get me to an internet café, I can forge some."  
  
Trowa simply nodded to that, unsurprised, gaze not wavering from the hectic traffic of Italy's cramped streets. "That would work. I know of one in the next city. We have to keep them from looking under the tarp, though."  
  
"Easy enough, with a big name. And I have someone big enough in mind," Heero replied simply, unconcerned.  
  
That drew only another efficient nod from Trowa.  
  
The rest of the trip continued in silence.  
  
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Guess whose name Heero intends to use as the one giving orders for their movements! Hehe…. And no, there weren't any mobile suits in use when Zechs was 6, so his dreams are NOT exact memories—though a great part of their makeup is based on true memories of his, mixing past and present. 


	9. Ask Yourself: Can You Even Deliver?

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Nine: Ask Yourself: Can You Even Deliver…?  
  
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Disclaimer—Okay, so I got a new fish. It's still not worth suing me for.  
  
Warnings—Eventual 2x6, yes, that means shounen ai (whatever), man + man, etc. Not that you'll see much. Maybe a kiss at the end. But the end is so far on the horizon, you need binoculars to even know it's out there. Otherwise, there's the usual hazards (sarcasm, etc). And for once, minor swearing! Oooo…  
  
Zechs gets the run of the Maganacs' base—which has its good points and bad points for all concerned. Heero and Trowa are in luck at the first checkpoint. Treize, on the other hand, is feeling his luck running thin and begins setting up his coup de tat.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Duo leaned on the railing of the service balcony, looking up at Deathscythe with a thoughtful smile, letting his mind wander. It was easy enough. Plenty to wander through, after all. Especially after Zechs's revelations during that first talk, so early that morning.  
  
//Though I bet the kid—it's so hard NOT to think of him as a kid!—is getting breakfast with Quatre right now. I know we promised him the run of the place, or rather a tour, or rather… /Quatre/ did… But he'd hardly be up at this hour. Too early. And I know sedatives take a bit to get out of your system… He was dozing off and on throughout our chat, almost, poor guy…//  
  
Dark blue—almost violet—eyes shifted over to the two mobile suits recently set on their feet beside Deathscythe and Sandrock: familiar old Wing Gundam, still needing a few minor parts, and a white monstrosity. The behemoth of mobile suits drew his attention, changing Duo's smile to a thoughtful frown.  
  
//How does that thing even get into the air? It looks pretty darn heavy—though those engines on the back look like they stand a chance of moving the thing… Must be ungainly as hell to maneuver, though. Bulky.// Duo scratched at the back of his head idly, contemplating the engineering behind the unusual suit. //Engineering folly… Or is it?//  
  
Some instinct made Duo glance to his left along the service balcony—but it turned into a double-take.  
  
Zechs.  
  
He'd taken much the same position as Duo, leaning bandaged hands against the railing, though the railing was almost chin-height to him. Icy blue eyes were riveted to the white suit, as if by will alone he could command it even from here. A faded loose blue shirt and pants the same pale shade as his long hair had been given to him, donated probably by some villager at a Maganac's request. And sandals, though just /how/ Zechs had gotten to his current position in those without making any noise stupefied the Gundam pilot.  
  
//Sandals just don't… How?!? I swear, I've tried to walk quietly in the darn things a hundred times, and yet… But he's managed to do it. Yeesh, I give up.// Chuckling softly, Duo straightened and strode over to the pale figure.  
  
Zechs didn't so much as stir a hair, though he must have heard Duo's footsteps echoing closer on the flimsy flooring.  
  
//One'd think that white monstrosity hypnotized him,// Deathscythe's pilot mused, amused.  
  
"So what's the thing's name?" Duo asked cheerfully, taking a position leaning on the railing beside the blonde.  
  
"Tallgeese." It was almost a whisper. Zechs's mind was obviously somewhere else, his gaze… more concerned and calculating than anything else, fixed on a point actually beyond the mobile suit, now that Duo was close enough to tell the difference.  
  
//Tallgeese? Guess they weren't sure about it when they made it, either! Just like nobody was sure the Spruce Goose would ever fly. Probably expected it'll flop. Hard to believe it fought Wing and almost won… Or was that more the pilot's doing?// "Strange name… Sounds like the engineers were making fun of it."  
  
Ice-blue eyes shifted to look at Duo, focusing immediately on his face. Though Duo continued to look up at the white machine, he could catch the movement from the corner of his eyes. "It's easy to underestimate the Tallgeese. It almost killed me the first time I tried it."  
  
Duo pulled back, shifting to lean backwards on the railing and frowning at that news. "How? It looks safe enough. Unless you fall off the landing—that's a bit of a fall at that height!"  
  
Zechs's eyes flicked to the cockpit, the side of his mouth quirking slightly. "That wasn't it… The sudden shifts of G-force tend to be of bone-breaking intensity, is all."  
  
Wincing, Duo shook his head, looking from the ex-Oz boy to the mobile suit and back. "Nahhhh… You're kidding me!"  
  
Smiling slowly, Zechs kicked off his sandals, and began clambering between the railings. "It broke my ribs… Then it gave me a heart attack."  
  
//Hey, wait a minute! What is he—what does he think he's—!// "Hey!" Duo reached out to grab a loose blue sleeve, but missed. Too late.  
  
Zechs jumped from the edge of the service balcony to the shoulder of the white suit, nimbly tabbing the hatch open and the landing down before bouncing down the surface of the Tallgeese to the cockpit.  
  
//I'll believe that heart attack bit—he's nearly giving /me/ one!// Vaulting over the railing, Duo followed suit, feet thumping onto the landing at the entrance of the cockpit in time to glimpse a pale blur of a boy slipping inside into the seat.  
  
"Hey, if the engines are as strong as you're saying they must be, don't start that thing up down here—it'll shake the houses apart above us like an earthquake!" Deathscythe's pilot tried, hoping to dissuade the young pilot from taking off.  
  
Zechs simply shook his head negatively, pale eyes glinting with sly mischief, and powered up the monitors, looking over the controls and indicators. "I'm not. I don't care to try the Tallgeese yet… Not unless I must."  
  
//Phew! At least he's still sane…// "Good… I mean, hey, I believe you can do wonders with the thing, but… you're a kid now. It's not the same—it /can't/ be the same!" Duo tried honestly, offering an apologetic smile and shrug. "You're with /us/ now… and we don't like our friends getting hurt."  
  
The solemn youth had been frowning a bit at the monitors' display, and those eyes now slowly closed, that pale head bowing.  
  
Duo's heart constricted, forcing a sigh from him. "Promise me you won't take off in this thing. Heck, if it almost killed you as an adult, it most definitely will as a kid! Just promise me…" //I feel like I'm trying to make him promise to pull his own teeth… But it's for his own good! I can't stand to—to see him dead.//  
  
For a long minute, Zechs didn't stir, head bowed and pale blue eyes shut… then… "Very well. I promise I won't take the Tallgeese flying."  
  
"Good," Duo breathed in undisguised relief, stepping back on the landing. "Well, I'm off to breakfast, then…" //I bet he wants to be alone with it for a bit, then… so I'd best give him privacy. That's not an easy promise, after all—but I had to get it out of him. For my own sake and Quatre's as much as his own!//  
  
The blonde youth nodded silent acknowledgement, eyes still shut, as Duo tabbed the descent line and took it to the floor far below.  
  
Hopping off at the bottom, Duo watched the line retract, heart feeling much lighter… yet a slight nagging suspicion bothered him. //You know…//  
  
//If it were me, I wouldn't have agreed…// Stifling a groan, Duo shook his head and headed off for breakfast. //I'd better tell Quatre and the Maganacs to keep an eye on him anyway…//  
  
//Just in case…//  
  
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Up in the cockpit, Miri… smiled.  
  
//Of course, /taking/ the Tallgeese flying and flying /it/ are two very different things…// Slowly, pale blue eyes opened, flicking back to the readings on the monitors, the status of the old machine.  
  
//She's set to go, my pale beauty… The buster rifle's recharged, the vernier rockets are primed, fully fueled… My lovely Tallgeese.// He sighed softly with pride. //You would never fail me, Tallgeese…//  
  
//Only /I/ can fail me…// A twinge of despair swirled through his body, and he looked at the open hatch by his feet.  
  
A pale, bandaged hand reached up to tab off the controls slowly, leaving only cockpit lights on. Icy eyes glared at the seating and armrests, which were pretty wide for someone of his stature—and quite uncomfortable where they had previously fit him like a glove.  
  
//I'm too short to get a good view of the main screen, and I need longer legs at the same time. Only Oz engineering could leave this kind of problem! Next time I get in here, I'm going to need a few things… Like a crate to sit on and additions to the bottom of my shoes!// Unable to escape the image of using a broomstick and bricks to wield the controls in Tallgeese's variable G-forces and the likely painful consequences of so much stuff flying around with every sudden turn, Zechs started chuckling…  
  
Chuckles turned to chortles and progressed to laughs, which carried the youth out of the cockpit, tabbing off the lights and closing the cockpit before taking the line down to the floor far below.  
  
//I wonder what my horoscope says? I'll die of flying bricks, perhaps? Impaled by a broomstick?// he wondered as he bounced off the line and looked back up at the service balcony—and his sandals, forgotten—high above. //Things are finally looking up… for now.//  
  
A slight smile remained with him as he dashed back to the ladder and back up, his pale eyes glinting with mischief.  
  
//I think I'll worry about the future when it hits me… for all that it tends to strike like a load of solid concrete when it /does/.//  
  
Kicking his feet into the thongs, Miri silently dashed off again, this time /with/ his sandals, practically flying down the ladder again with a reckless disregard for personal safety that most children that age display.  
  
//Somehow… I feel like I've more energy now than I've had the past 5 years as an Oz Colonel! And I know /just/ how to spend it… I'm probably out of practice, though…// Surely they had what he wanted around here somewhere…  
  
His laugh echoed softly, distantly, throughout the hangar, a wordless promise to the world that it didn't know just what it had just spawned…  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Trowa didn't glance over at Heero as the first checkpoint rolled up, though the urge to do so was quite compelling. Instead, he silently handed their papers through the truck's window over to the waiting Oz soldier in his crisp red uniform.  
  
The nondescript soldier frowned at the forms, then groaned. "Oh shit… Major, you may want to see this…"  
  
Trowa couldn't restrain an eyebrow from slipping skyward, and gave into his urge. Heero's dark blue gaze met his own impassively, and Wing Gundam's pilot shifted his better shoulder up in a slight shrug.  
  
"What the heck?!?" the Major complained, stalking back towards the truck and waving those pages in his hand. "What the heck is the guy /doing/!? Is the Colonel /insane/?!?"  
  
Green eyes blinked as papers waved in close enough proximity to Trowa's face to threaten some nasty paper-cuts. "Sir?"  
  
"He's already /got/ that old museum-piece, the Tallgeese—/and/ had that Gundam almost in one piece for a good bit, and God only knows what he's having built for him /now/—but they're not like trading-cards, damn it! With half Oz and a good portion of Romefeller for that matter looking for him—you'd think that damn Colonel of yours would know better than to go collecting /more/ mobile suits!" the man ranted irately.  
  
Trowa's eyes widened slightly, but he resolutely made no sound.  
  
"What is he trying to do, start a damn collection? This is the bloody /army/! Not the Air And Space Museum!" continued the Major sharply, pulling up proudly as if to prove himself a more responsible specimen of the military.  
  
"Where are you headed, anyway?" the soldier who had first taken the papers piped in hopefully. When his own superior officer glared at him, the younger man shrugged and leered. "I heard Lieutenant Noin was looking for him, too…"  
  
Heero and Trowa exchanged cocked eyebrows. The Major muttered under his breath some scathing comment that if Lieutenant Noin wanted to catch the Colonel's attention, she should have wings attached to her shoulders and a gun in hand.  
  
Finally, Heero murmured, "It's classified… With so many looking for him, it would be stupid to reappear and get swamped."  
  
The Major grunted, making a face and looking back down at the papers a long moment. Then he snorted and half-tossed, half-handed the papers back through the truck window in a dismissive gesture. "Get on with it, then, get out of here… before I impound the Colonel's latest toy just for the sake of it! I swear, the man must be losing his mind… and why His Excellency lets him get away with it…"  
  
Still muttering, the man wandered back inside the station. The soldier who had mentioned Noin shrugged sheepishly and reached for the button to lift the flimsy gate.  
  
"I bet you're off to Cairo Base to collect the Raven Transporter Plane for that thing…" the fellow sighed, smiling wryly. "It beats sitting around here, though. And I bet the Colonel's got something up his sleeve—he always does!"  
  
But he abruptly leaned in conspiringly through the truck's window before Trowa could slam on the gas pedal, startling Trowa into jerking back in the seat. The Oz soldier glanced about warily through the corners of his eyes, then whispered hastily, "Watch out for a tail—Romefeller's /really/ out for his blood and not above spilling that of anyone in their path. Keep him safe—for His Excellency and good old Instructor Noin. The Raven's in Corsica Base."  
  
Then, suddenly, he leaned back and winked slyly, leering again. "Give the girls there a kiss for me, eh?" Then he waved them on through.  
  
Trowa nodded silently, and edged the truck through, driving on in thoughtful silence…  
  
"Stop at the next internet café after losing the tail. We need papers for Corsica Base," Heero murmured grimly.  
  
Trowa nodded slowly. "Then we will go to Africa?"  
  
Though Heero didn't nod, his voice carried a hint of approval. "If we can get a coordinated attack while Oz is disorganized, we might accomplish something."  
  
"You're hoping Quatre might have rejoined his allies there."  
  
Silence was the only reply, but Trowa nodded again—answering himself, though it wasn't really a question.  
  
The truck rumbled on determinedly… aware that a jeep pulling into traffic behind it had become an unwanted rear escort.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
His Excellency was pouring through satellite pictures grimly, driven by instincts he didn't know he had until now.  
  
//I never thought of myself as the paternal type,// he mused, pausing for a sip of red wine before taking up the magnifying glass and squinting at yet another expanse of sand. //But I swear, if they so much as touch a hair on that boy's head before I can find him, I'll… I'll…//  
  
Treize paused, frowning, trying to think up a punishment suitable for such a crime.  
  
An evil light touched his sapphire eyes. //I'll lock them in a room full of Barney pictures and repeat that damn song over and over until they go insane…//  
  
Then something caught his eye, and he squinted harder at the picture before him. It looked like… No, that wasn't a normal dune. That couldn't be, in the middle of flat sand.  
  
A covered plane. But a warped one. One wing gone?  
  
//Has… Has he crashed? But then—/someone/ must have covered up the plane afterwards! Someone else in the area? Did they capture him, or help him? Be safe, Milliardo, be safe… Perhaps you escaped into the village there…//  
  
A shudder tickled the General's spine. //Perhaps whoever covered the plane's in the village, too.//  
  
Tapping the intercom, he summoned one of his searchers back, gaze drifting back to the photo as he waited for the young loyal soldier to report.  
  
//Be safe, old friend…//  
  
//Or I'll be forced to cause a lot of pain to someone… or several someones!//  
  
The response was swift. The young solder popped in and saluted smartly, as eager to please as a young puppy, and barely older than one.  
  
"Sergeant Greyston… What forces are—or rumored to be—in… or near… ACP Point 150?"  
  
Frowning slightly, the Sergeant scratched at an ear, trying to recall. "Well, Sir, we know that somewhere in that sector is a rebel force calling themselves the Maganac Corps… They're considered a freedom-fighting force of the Arabian nations, Sir—some fairly high-up and wealthy backing, which is why they're still about."  
  
Setting down the photo, Treize steepled his hands over it, leaning forwards over his desk. "The Maganac Corps," he mused. //There may be no love lost between them and the rest of the nations—and nationalities. I hope they're friendly to similar causes, though, Milliardo—for your sake.//  
  
Snapping his fingers, the younger soldier brightened abruptly. "That reminds me, Sir—we just overheard orders for Commander Girald to finish them off at their home base. Seems he thinks he knows where it might be…"  
  
//Commander Girald…? He's practically another Acht—an ex-Alliance trying to impress Romefeller by doing little missions for Dermail!// Had Treize not been raised as the perfect gentleman, he would have spat out the foul taste that name left in his mouth.  
  
Then something clicked.  
  
"Is he in this sector right now?" the General demanded sharply, tapping the photo with an elegant hand.  
  
The young soldier before him tilted his head a bit to the side. "Not yet—but that could be a target, Sir. We don't know where the Maganac Corps's main base is, Sir. It could just as well be right there."  
  
A thrill of alarm flashed through Treize's body. //If there's weaponry, I bet Zechs is there, too! Damn!!! Commander Girald won't listen to me any more than Acht would. We have to do something!// He lunged to his feet, chugging down the last of the wine in his glass—and ignoring the astonished expression on the young man's face. "Get every loyal—and quiet—man we have. Get them armed and ready for action. We have to stop him."  
  
Sergeant Greyston saluted—perhaps it was habit for confused soldiers around Treize to snap salutes whenever confused, worried, or caught off-guard, the General mused. "But Sir—we can't possibly get there in time! The battle'll be over by the time we get there!"  
  
Frowning at the photo, Treize paused beside his desk. "We have to try."  
  
//I won't abandon you, Milliardo. You've done me favors time and again, stuck by me through more than anyone else can imagine—now it's time I repay the debt.//  
  
Striding for the door, he commanded grimly, fiercely, "Have my plane readied. And make sure it has an Aries for me as well. Also have someone to see to… evidence of our stay. We might not return here."  
  
//We might not return at all.//  
  
//World peace be hanged! This is not a good time to pursue absolute peace, not with the world powers as they are currently. /And I do NOT abandon my loyal friends!!!///  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --  
  
It wasn't Quatre's day. It couldn't be. Some higher power must have made a wide decree that this day was to be an Anti-Quatre Rabera Winner Day.  
  
And Duo couldn't help laughing about that, so he must have been there for the announcement.  
  
Rashid loomed in the doorway even as Duo chuckled at yet another sudden plunge of the stock Quatre had just recommended he invest in… and the large Maganac looked like he'd swallowed something distasteful recently. Not the best sign. Rashid never scowled—he just looked grim, or even dark at times. Now was one of those times.  
  
//Why me?// Quatre wanted to groan, his empathy telling him that something—while it hadn't made Rashid angry—had brought the leader of the Maganacs here and away from overseeing the repair of the Gundams and completion of Wing Gundam. //This can't be good. He wants… a mediator, or a favor of some kind, that's all I can pick up… from /him/…//  
  
There was something suspicious about Rashid's stance…  
  
Well, even Duo must have felt something, because he stopped teasing Quatre about the stocks and turned to look at the Maganac—laughter dying. "Hey man—what's wrong?"  
  
Rashid looked down at the Gundam pilots as if gauging their mood—so he could break some bad news gently. Or was he simply trying to find a good way to phrase something? //Most unlike him to hold back…// "What's wrong, Rashid?" Quatre tried, concerned.  
  
"Have either of you some free time to help out?" Rashid's voice carried a plaintive note—almost desperate.  
  
//Great Allah—what's gone wrong?// "Is someone hurt?" Quatre asked, jumping to his feet.  
  
Duo's eyes widened in alarm. "We're free—but why?"  
  
"This happens to keep getting underfoot…" Rashid stuck out an arm with a fistful of blue and silvery-white…  
  
//Zechs?// Now what Quatre had been picking up from Rashid's direction made a lot more sense.  
  
A sheepish, bedraggled and familiar boy smiled weakly at the pair as the huge Arabian held him out like a lion cub on display—by the nape of the neck and a generous handful of shirt and pale hair. His feet dangled a good three feet above the floor, weighted with… metal? No, some scrap metal concoction concerning wheels set in lines…  
  
"Hey, cool—rollerblades! I never thought of using spare gundanium for them before!" Duo burst out eagerly, eying the makeshift footgear.  
  
Quatre stifled a groan. //Just what we need—/two/ of them whirling around the hangar on those things!// "Duo," he tried wearily.  
  
The black-clad pilot sighed, rolling his eyes and getting to his feet. "Yeah, yeah… So, what happened?"  
  
Rashid continued to hold the boy out to them as if waiting for one of the pair to take Zechs out of his hands in a literal sense. "His whirling around made Auda dizzy enough to knock over a pile of outer plating; he scared the heavens out of Abdul by popping up literally under the nose of the forklift; Ashish thought he was a ghost and now refuses to enter the hangar without some kind of anti-ghost charm—"  
  
//Oh my!// Quatre closed his eyes and sighed, listening to Rashid list a string of mishaps and close calls. He could feel shame and silent apology—with a touch of irritation—radiating from the boy as the list continued on. Rashid, on the other hand, was actually amused and simply trying to scare the youth out of repeating the performance—easy enough, when the man bore such a grim aura about him on a regular basis. No way Zechs, who hadn't known the man long enough, could guess Rashid's true mood under the bluster.  
  
"I was in no danger," Zechs piped in quietly, confidently, reassuringly—the source of his irritation, as he was certain of his own skills and because of them, his own safety  
  
Rashid stopped listing mishaps and looked down at the boy dangling from his hand like a sorry cat. His lips quirked slightly, hinting his amusement. "It was not /you/ I was worried about! They weren't getting anything /done/!"  
  
Quatre chuckled mischievously. Duo laughed at Zechs's surprised expression—and the slight shy smile that the boy ducked under those long bangs.  
  
"So, what do you want /us/ to do, Rashid?" Duo asked, grinning broadly, hands on hips. Quatre could feel that he had been worried for the younger—older?—boy pilot as the listing began, but Rashid's words had eased that.  
  
Rashid paused.  
  
Quatre didn't need his empathy to know what was coming. //Oh no, he wants us to babysit…!//  
  
Zechs must have guessed, too, because resentment boiled up. "I don't need nursemaids!"  
  
Duo groaned.  
  
Rashid shook his head firmly, as if to refuse to let them back out. "/You/ both need occupation," he pointed out at the Gundam pilots. "/He/ needs occupation—/away/ from the hangar! You can help each other out. Pick his brain about Oz bases nearby—play a game—or go show him the village—just keep out of our way if you want working Gundams again. There is a celebration tonight, as well—perhaps you can find out where exactly in the village it will be held. We Maganacs at least intend to make the most of it…"  
  
Zechs sighed. Quatre could feel that the boy was resigned to whatever he and Duo decided to do, though a spark of interest and curiosity was fueled by the idea of exploring the village and joining the celebration. //It sounds pleasant… and I think it'll cheer us all up after that last disastrous battle… I think we all need it…//  
  
"Hey, a celebration? I'm all for that!" Duo decided without hesitation.  
  
//I'm not surprised,// Quatre mused. //When you have the opportunities to enjoy the world around you, Duo, you never turn them away. You make the most out of the life offered you… And I'm trying to do that, too, though I don't think I'm as successful at it as you.//  
  
"Well, maybe we can help the villagers set up for it," Quatre tried, smiling hopefully. //It's something new—and we can contribute something that way.//  
  
Even before he got vocal responses, Sandrock's pilot could feel the solid eager agreement of the other two pilots.  
  
Rashid held up his free hand in a halting gesture. "One rule, however…"  
  
A chorus of groans echoed through the room.  
  
The Maganac Corps' leader ignored it. That free hand swiftly unlaced the makeshift rollerblades from Zechs's feet—and the boy moaned. "But I spent a good /hour/ making these!"  
  
"No using these in the village," the tall Arabian stated firmly.  
  
Duo chuckled and Quatre giggled behind a hand at Zechs's resulting embarrassed and woe-be-gone expression as he was de-skated. //He seems much more open than I imagined he would be,// Quatre observed. //Could that be why he used to wear the mask—to hide, to keep his expression and eyes from giving away too much?//  
  
"There. /Now/ you can go." Rashid smiled, skates in one hand and boy in the other, looking, for the moment, like a smug father who had managed to derail some young prankster's newest plan.  
  
Zechs sighed, then looked up through a mass of wild pale bangs to give Rashid a wry—and yet content and accepting somehow—smile. "Could you put me down, then, finally?" he asked, half-laughing. "I'm not a 'Pine Forest' air freshener… though the Tallgeese could use a new one!"  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
To be continued.  
  
I'm having too much fun with this thing! :) And if you think Zechs's reserved demeanor is cracked in this, you're right—he's regressing a bit. 


	10. Remember When You Were More Easily Led

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Ten: Remember When You Were More Easily Led…  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Disclaimer—No, you can't have the fish. Do I own other things? Not that you'd want. Go sue someone of value.  
  
Warnings—Eventual 2x6, at least in theory, not that you'll see anything more than the vaguest of insinuations yet. Sarcasm. Panic. Minor swearing. People scratching their heads. That's about it.  
  
Party poopers arrive at the Maganacs' village. Trowa and Heero travel in style, courtesy of the Oz Specials. Treize debates if he sent Dermail the right dropped gauntlet.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Zechs trailed after Quatre and Duo on light, eager feet through the maze of an underground compound for the entrance to the village. They had half a day left to explore the village. Then, the celebration…  
  
//When was the last time I had leave? 3 years ago? /Longer?/ It's been ages since I've walked around in anything civilian without some bloody purpose behind it all—and no, the formals Treize made me go to do NOT count as going out…// he mused, horrified by the passage of time. //About time I got out and discovered what fun is again!//  
  
Miri resisted the urge to do a little dance. His feet felt light again, scolding practically forgotten. Okay, so rollerblading around the hangar was forbidden—did he care?  
  
//No. There's always other things I can do…// Ice blue eyes gleamed with wicked mischief. //Or I can come up with new things… There's a /reason/ Treize sent me on so many missions across the world!//  
  
Duo grinned as he tabbed open a door and waved Quatre through—and into the blinding sunlight outside. The Arabian Gundam pilot walked out without hesitation, smiling, with a murmur of thanks for his fellow—and Miri quickstepped to nearly tread on the other blonde's heels in his eagerness to see the town he had nearly crashed into.  
  
Stopping a few feet outside the door—enough to let Duo out, too—Zechs stopped, looking about brightly, smiling slowly. //It's lovely…//  
  
It brought the feelings of home, without enough visual similarities to blast his heart with old memories of Sanc. Just the warmth, the peacefulness—this is what his father had dreamed of turning the world into. Not so much the whitewashed mud and brick walls of homes, the wood-and- cloth overhangs of shops, the bright clothes of people passing on various errands… but the smiles on those faces, the happy calls of children playing in the streets, the quiet but content industry all around.  
  
Miri could feel his cares vanishing there in the bright sunlight, the calming influence of the place seeping into skin and bones long-starved of such nourishment.  
  
People passing by offered cheerful greetings to both Gundam pilots and the strange child standing nearby as if they were old friends. A couple girls came over from a flower stall with bouquets in hand, holding them out to Duo and Quatre with shy giggles.  
  
Zechs could only stare at that last… ice entering his veins and holding him statue-still.  
  
"I… Thank you, though I don't deserve them," Quatre murmured sheepishly back to the girl holding his flowers. However, he had no choice but to accept them in his arms, and those bright blossoms drew the gentle blonde pilot's gaze downward modestly. The young woman, however, giggled and dashed off again…  
  
Duo, on the other hand, actually backed up a pace in surprise at the gift, as if not certain how to react. After a moment, a hand hesitated forward to accept the flowers, though, and the braided pilot nodded, smiling broadly—a hint shyly. "Hey, thanks… But—/why/?"  
  
The second girl giggled like the first, and rather than answer Duo, also ran off… leaving both Gundam pilots to look at their flowers and shuffle embarrassed feet.  
  
//Flowers,// Miri mused numbly, assaulted by old memories.  
  
Miri had been given flowers like this… Long, long ago. People like to give flowers to royalty, to heroes, to those they love. People had given them to his parents. They had given them to him and even his little sister, too, when she was able to cutch at one (those didn't last long, though). Because the people had loved their royal family—and knew they were loved in return.  
  
//Numb. I feel… numb… Am I still alive?// Ice blue eyes blinked blankly into space as the churning tide of memories began to recede, leaving a flotsam of devastated emotions in its wake.  
  
"But… what did they give us these for?" Duo asked, dumbfounded, of nobody in particular.  
  
//Probably stunned, like me,// the ex-Oz boy mused randomly through his sinking spirits. //Had he received many gifts in life? Does he know what this means, to the people? From his reaction, probably not.//  
  
Quatre smiled gently, warmly, eyes lit up with a determination and pride almost destroyed by recent setbacks. "They appreciate what we're doing… Like they appreciate the Maganacs. I bet Rashid and the rest told them about us." He looked ready to hug those flowers like a plushy.  
  
Zechs had to tear his eyes away—they were growing damp. It felt like someone was crushing his heart in a fist. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. Things were suddenly too sharp, scathingly so—as if the desert sun had focused a laser-bright beam straight on his soul to show every flaw's every exact line… //They're right—they're doing the right thing. They're fighting Oz and Romefeller and the last of the old Alliance… and me, I've been too narrow-sighted. I've set Sanc free—and that is all. And in /how/ I did that, I've destroyed my people's hopes… except for in giving them Relena. I'm a failure. I've become what they hate…//  
  
///I've become just like the Alliance soldiers....///  
  
Miri could feel himself shaking. That comparison…! Too cruel. And… And yet…? //It's… It's not /quite/ true. I at least have some honor. I do not kill innocents, civilians, when avoidable. I kill cleanly—I don't torment my enemies—I give clean death!// But the shivers didn't want to stop. //I'm not like them… I'm NOT!//  
  
"I'm /not/," he breathed insistently to himself. He had to /hear/ it… //I'm NOT! I may be a killer, but I am not that evil—not yet, and not ever, if I can help it!//  
  
"Zechs…?" Quatre's voice drifted to his ears distantly, hesitant and concerned.  
  
//I'll do what I must—that's what I decided 13 years ago, and I'll hold to it,// he resolved silently, eyes narrowing determinedly. //But /only/ what I must…//  
  
"Hello? Zechs?" A hand swung before his face, too close for comfort.  
  
Zechs jerked backwards slightly, wrenched from his thoughts, and whirled—to end up facing a curious Duo with flowers resting against his shoulder. "Hmmm?"  
  
"Are you okay, Zechs?" Quatre asked gently, stepping up behind the black- clad Gundam pilot.  
  
Miri nodded slowly, ragged bangs half hiding his eyes. //Okay as I'll ever be, I suppose… at least for now.// "Yes." He made the answer terse.  
  
Duo frowned slightly. Quatre looked quizzical.  
  
"Memories." It wasn't an apology—just an explanation. After all, he /had/ admitted they were hard to distance right now, and they /had/ started this train of thought.  
  
Quatre grimaced and looked a bit sick to his stomach, quickly tearing his gaze away.  
  
That made Zechs's eyebrows arch slightly. //How much /do/ they know about me…? No, wait, Duo had mentioned talking to the doctor… Perhaps… He may have reported everything. Ugh. Don't follow that thought, Miri!//  
  
Shifting his gaze over to Duo, the youth tilted his head slightly. Duo was watching him with a faintly puzzled expression, as if by studying his profile long enough, the Gundam pilot could get all the answers he wanted. And Duo looked like he had a whole list needing blanks filled in…  
  
//Not this time, I'm afraid,// Miri decided with a hint of smug amusement that he kept hidden. //You won't get the story of Sanc out of me /that/ way. The fewer who know about it… the safer you stay…// He couldn't let others get too close to him, to learn to much, because that could endanger his friends. //Heck, look at poor Noin—I don't even know for sure if she managed to escape Romefeller!//  
  
"Well… let's go see if we can find the Sheikh," Quatre offered, breaking the silence.  
  
Duo pulled his gaze away to glance at the blonde Gundam pilot, breaking into a broad grin. "Sure… but won't these things melt or something? It's hot out here…"  
  
//No experience with flowers, I'm sure of it now,// Miri snickered silently. Mischievously, he gestured towards a stall where a man was selling wooden containers. "Put them in water, add a bit of detergent, and leave them in the shade somewhere. They'll keep," he suggested.  
  
Even Quatre eyed him in surprise. "And you know this… how?" Duo demanded sharply, eyes narrowing suspiciously.  
  
Zechs smiled wryly, and gestured back towards the entrance of the underground base. //So, they never heard of Treize and roses? Frankly, I'm surprised—I thought the Gundam pilots were well informed.// "Your briefings didn't cover Treize's obsession with roses? No, seems not… Well, then… If I thought the man would stay in any one city for more than a month, I'd have invested all my money in flower shops there. He always has to have them—be it in Luxemburg, Lake Victoria, or Antarctica… You pick up a few things about keeping the damn things alive in the worst of conditions after a bit…"  
  
"Ugh," Duo groaned, looking at his flowers as if torn between pitying the supplier or the flowers themselves.  
  
Shaking his head, Quatre slowly led the way towards the indicated stall. "Didn't he have aides to deal with all that?"  
  
Miri nodded as he moved to follow. //For what good they were…// "Who do you think they turned to for /their/ answers?" he countered, stifling a giggle. "I may have been /intimidating/, but at least I wasn't /scary/, like Lady Une…"  
  
Duo started laughing, and hurried to catch up with them. "I never thought the leader of Oz needed a /babysitter/!"  
  
Quatre grinned at that.  
  
//Well… more just someone who had a clue how to do things right, consistently, and had some idea of what he wanted. I swear, the rest of them, even Lady Une, seemed to need an interpreter to figure out what Treize meant half the time!// Zechs's face felt hot, and he ducked it to hide behind his bangs. "Well… not /exactly/…"  
  
"Don't tell me /he/ used to rollerblade around the hanger half the time, too!" Quatre groaned.  
  
Duo nearly doubled over at that image of the dignified OZ leader on makeshift skates.  
  
Miri snorted indignantly. "Hardly… He was too old at the time for me to convince… Actually, that one was Noin's idea. I came up with downhill skiing on the sand dunes." //Though the friction-burns were a bit nasty those first few falls…//  
  
It was hard not to laugh at the resulting expressions on the Gundam pilots' faces.  
  
"It wasn't /that/ bad when you fell," the ex-Oz pilot protested, spreading his hands. "Sand is easier to soak out than asphalt…"  
  
Quatre blanched.  
  
Duo shook his head and walked on, muttering, "I'm not even going to /ask/ how you know that…"  
  
Zechs laughed, and scurried to keep up with their longer strides. //Poor things… They really weren't briefed too well on us!// "Well, it all began with a large fan, a hang-glider, those rollerblades, and a good five rolls of duct-tape… Oh stop groaning—it was safe enough will all that tape!"  
  
"I'm surprised you're even still /alive/, man, if /that's/ what you consider fun hobbies for your free time!" Duo answered over his shoulder.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
Arriving at the mostly-rebuilt Corsica Base, Trowa stepped out of the truck to give their papers to the officer in charge of the plane, who met them by the hanger. A thick sheaf of papers, at that—Heero had been busy at that last internet cafe. Heero himself waited behind the steering wheel, silent, watching patiently, so as not to reveal his injuries to everyone.  
  
The recipient of the papers flipped a couple pages, skimmed… paused, reread a few lines, then groaned. "What does he think we are, a storage rental facility? He's got a damn locker for that, like the rest of us… though the lucky bastard always has the /big/ toys… Where's he hiding nowadays, anyway? No, never mind—there's such a thing as too much information. Some secret mission for His Excellency, no doubt. Hunting Gundam pilots, maybe."  
  
Trowa stayed impassive, quiet.  
  
Sighing, the man patted the papers back into some semblance of order, taking the lower half and passing them on to another soldier, who took one glance, rolled his eyes, and scurried off, calling to other various personnel. The first soldier turned back to Trowa, looking him over appraisingly.  
  
"You're a bit young to fly her, but then, he's always had a bit of a following among you kids… maybe because he was shooting rebels down effortlessly at your age. I suppose he wants to pass the opportunities he received to youngsters like you… but I say it's a good way to get killed young and nothing more." He sighed again. "Not that my opinion matters… She's fueled and set to go…"  
  
A fellow officer had idly wandered over towards the truck-bed during this chatter, unseen by Trowa but cautiously observed by Heero. Even as the injured Gundam pilot watched through the side-mirrors, the man tugged at the canvas, lifting a bit up to peer at the machine underneath. "Hey, this isn't an Aries!" he exclaimed in wonder, turning all heads towards the truck.  
  
Trowa glanced over his shoulder, stiffening. He could see Heero's shadow shift inside the cab—perhaps he had drawn his gun? But… perhaps there was a way to fib their way out of this…  
  
"It's not a new machine—it's one confiscated," Trowa murmured emotionlessly in explanation. Fingers crossed at his side—just in case.  
  
The two officers exchanged looks, the one by the truck-bed whistling in awe. "/Another/ Gundam? I swear, the Colonel's got all the luck!"  
  
Those words made Trowa shiver slightly, abruptly worried. How could Oz already have one, after all? Not good news… "The pilot was trying to smuggle it out of Italy by loading it onto a boat. He's dead."  
  
"It I were him, I'd say 'screw the military' and invest in lottery tickets," answered the officer admiring Heavyarms absently, more interested in guessing the lines of the machine beneath the canopy.  
  
The officer standing by Trowa shook his head and reached out to clap Trowa on the shoulder, nearly staggering the Gundam pilot. "That's good news! I have to admit, worrying about what those guys were up to has been ruining my nights lately. Things were getting a bit, well… /too/ quiet, if you know what I mean."  
  
The soldier who had called various personnel after him into the hangar was now hurrying back, and so the officer broke off to call over, "All set, then?"  
  
"Yes sir! She's good to go—just needs to be loaded!"  
  
The second officer chuckled, and walked towards his fellow by Trowa, pausing to peek in the window of the truck and offer Heero, "Pass on our thanks to the Lightening Count, will you? I bet he'll be glad to know /some/ of us appreciate his efforts!" Then he walked on into the hanger.  
  
"I'll second that," the first officer murmured, handing back those papers remaining in his hands. "Which one did you guys get, anyway?"  
  
That was a good question. Trowa knew they were known by numbers, but which was /he/? One person could know, though… Turning to the truck, he called, "Hey, Duo!"  
  
Heero poked his head out the window, blue eyes narrowed sharply. "What?"  
  
"Which Gundam is it?"  
  
Let Heero know, please. Let Heero know, please. Let Heero know, /please/…  
  
"03," came a half-snorted reply, as if disgusted Trowa had "forgotten".  
  
"Hm," Trowa grunted, as if annoyed, though he was secretly relieved, for the officer was nodding and smiling at that reply. "Well, if the transport plane's ready…"  
  
Chuckling, the officer waved for Heero to drive into the hanger. "Yeah, yeah, whenever you're ready. Things are quiet here lately. Just be /nice/ to the tower after take-off this time, okay? They weren't too happy with Zechs for how he let you trainees buzz them last time… Thought you were playing 'chicken' with their antennae."  
  
The truck rumbled to life again, and rolled for the hanger, Trowa walking behind, the officer trailing after as far as the doors…  
  
Trowa had to make an effort to hide his surprise upon entering, however. He'd expected a typical transport plane with some fancy insignia and a name neatly painted on the nose. This sleek, gunmetal-blue plane was familiar, though—and /not/ a typical transporter plane. Special engines, set closer to the body, yet capable of holding her high in the upper atmosphere. The belly was large, yet sleek for landing on water, snow, or sand. The top was flat and the windows small, angled like an old Stealth Fighter plane. The insignia was plain, the name a faint bit of cursive black script by the cockpit windows: "Raven."  
  
He'd seen it before. It had leapt into the air and escaped when he had first met Quatre. It had vanished like a flare into the evening sky despite a belly full of some sort of heavy cargo, adroitly evading a few parting shots given by a couple of the Maganacs.  
  
The officer sighed softly. "She's a beauty of a transporter… I'm surprised he didn't leave it with Miss Noin, though, over in Lake Victoria. Their hanger's still in one piece, after all… Ah well. Have a good trip."  
  
Idly, Trowa had to wonder why the Colonel hadn't tried to engage them—why he'd fled. It was something to ask Heero later. Wing's ex-pilot had fought the man—perhaps he had some insight behind such a move. And it wouldn't hurt to know more about the man they were pretending to be underlings of.  
  
But the truck was rumbling up the tail ramp, so Trowa moved towards the stairs for the cockpit.  
  
The officer waved, then wandered back outside, off to other duties.  
  
Taking a seat at the controls, Trowa was shortly joined by the still- bandaged pilot of 01.  
  
The pair looked at each other as they began starting the plane up, listening to the purr of the powerful engines, the thrum of agile power under their fingertips. They worked as if they'd been a team on this plane for years. And she responded beautifully to their movements, rolling towards the runway in a mere couple minutes, no warm-up needed. Their glances agreed—this plane was well worth stealing!  
  
Trowa glanced at his companion, and a slow smile formed on his lips—a rare sight.  
  
Heero blinked at him a moment, then arched an eyebrow in silent inquiry.  
  
"What do you say we buzz the tower?"  
  
A grunt was the only reply necessary.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Treize Kushrenada sat back, feet up on a stool, and savored the red wine in one hand, eyeing a glossy close-up photo in the other hand.  
  
//I wonder if I sent the right message to Duke Dermail…// he wondered idly, unconcerned, eyes not leaving the picture.  
  
He had sent a copy with the message.  
  
//I hope he doesn't mistake two right-hand gloves for a pair. It would be so unobservant of him.// Two white gloves had accompanied the picture. One had been Treize's.  
  
//Thank God that Zechs always keeps a change of uniform at every base, or I'd never have been to send a challenge on his behalf as well.// The Congo Training Base had provided a glove on the Tallgeese's pilot's behalf.  
  
//But I think the rancid dead camel with the broken back conveys the message best…//  
  
It was best not to think of how /that/ was found and packaged into a crate for delivery.  
  
//But the overall message should be unmistakable.//  
  
Quite pointedly so. A picture pinned to the broken back of a dead camel, and two gloves of challenge to formal dueling sitting beside the odiferous pile. The last straw. The bonds broken. Honor should be appeased.  
  
//But can it?//  
  
Looking into the eyeholes of the cracked, blood-streaked mask of the boy in the picture, Treize had to wonder. He had seen that same determination in the eyes of the Gundam pilots. That same to-the-death determination in the eyes of a boy who had dueled him and lost. But more, that gaze, that expression, it cried out to the world that justice had been denied the wearer. And that triumphant smile beneath the mask, lit up by the proximity of a firecracker in the boy's hand—it brought to mind the words of a homeless, lost princeling with tears in his eyes.  
  
"'Maybe I can't have justice… But I /can/ do revenge.'" Treize murmured those words again under his breath before taking another sip of wine to savor.  
  
//AC 125… A good year. Your smile says you aren't done with them, Zechs—no, Milliardo. I am ashamed I can't keep your names straight. But what will you do? What can be done? They /have/ effectively made you no longer a serious threat…//  
  
The smile in that picture seemed to mock his conclusion.  
  
//…Or, perhaps I am wrong? /Are/ you the same boy you were back then?// Treize shivered a little, smiling slowly, wryly, eyes saddened. //The more I think about it… I must be wrong. You'll find a way. You did back then, after all.//  
  
//I only wonder…//  
  
//How many times you can sell your soul for those you care about? The blood already on your hands is nearly killing you—and this will demand even more.//  
  
"Seven more hours, Your Excellency," the pilot called from the cockpit.  
  
Treize sighed softly. //Hold tight, old friend. I'm coming to do what I can…//  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Duo looked back over his shoulder at where Quatre was talking to the local sheikh. Zechs hung back, a bit behind the blonde Gundam pilot, as if needing a body shield between himself and the rotund man. In fact, the boy had been rather the same around the villagers as well—tending to hang back, to hide either behind one of the Gundam pilots or under long bangs.  
  
//Is it shyness… or embarrassment? Or guilt? Around us and the Maganacs, he seems more comfortable, but around other people, it's as if he… Is he afraid of them? I don't get it.// Sighing, Duo rubbed the back of his head, turning to head back to his companions.  
  
The celebration seemed to be going nicely otherwise. Some villagers were making a bonfire, and others had brought strange instruments to play music, and a couple people were even dancing along to the current tune being played. Many were just talking, laughing, sharing food and drink…  
  
Duo returned in time to hear the sheikh ask Zechs what he thought of the village so far. Recalling how the boy's wide eyes had eagerly followed the activity around them—yet how the boy had clung worryingly close to the two Gundam pilots for the entire tour, Duo wondered how he'd respond. //He /seemed/ to like it… but I was starting to get annoyed by all those people asking us if he was Quatre's younger brother or something.//  
  
"It's really a nice place, sir," came a quiet, almost formal reply from under that pale-blonde fringe.  
  
Duo fought to roll his eyes, and smiled wryly. //You hide too much, Zechs. Someday, I just might take shears to those bangs of yours…//  
  
"And you, Duo Maxwell?"  
  
Uh-oh, they'd noticed him standing behind the boy. //At this rate, I'm getting no better than Zechs—hiding behind others. Ah well—caught now!// "It's pretty cool, I think. I wish the rest of Earth and space were this nice and peaceful."  
  
Both the sheikh and Quatre beamed at that, the former murmuring excitedly before being called away to judge some minor dispute caused by a friendly bet.  
  
Zechs's head dipped, and the boy simply shifted his attention to the dancers and laughing villagers… a hint of longing in that gaze.  
  
//Oh, stop brooding,// Duo sighed mentally, and dropped a hand on one of those boney shoulders. "Hey, go join them, kiddo," he suggested.  
  
Under his hand, Zechs immediately jerked—then shuddered—before ducking his shoulder and quickly shedding Duo's grip, eyeing Duo scathingly over his shoulder.  
  
Duo winced, remembering. //Damn, damn, /damn/ fool move, Duo! How could you forget?// "Er, sorry Zechs…"  
  
"It's all right…" Zechs glanced back at the people enjoying themselves a long moment, then shook his head in denial, though whether he was denying something to himself or their suggestion was a good question. "I'd… rather stay with you and Quatre, though, if you don't mind."  
  
Quatre piped in, "We won't mind, Zechs. Actually, if you can find Rashid—he should be out there somewhere by now—Duo and I'll catch up with you in a moment. Rashid's probably about done with the Gundam you brought in… and we need to figure out what to do with it soon."  
  
A solemn nod of that white-blonde head, but something flickered in those perceptive ice-blue eyes. "All right." Then Zechs slipped off through the crowd like a shadow.  
  
Duo sighed softly. //He saw right through that, Quatre.// "Better hurry with what you want to say, before our tail gets back.," he suggested wearily.  
  
Flushing faintly, Quatre echoed that sigh. "He's… He's really reverting sometimes, so I keep forgetting…"  
  
//Oh no, he's spacing out again with that Space Heart of his!// "Quatre…!" he warned, voice a low growl.  
  
The blonde Gundam pilot started, and flushed a deeper red. "Sorry! Sorry! I just wanted to say that… well, just don't push him. You seemed suspicious, but… he really /is/ shy. He's comfortable with soldiers, but he feels very guilty around civilians…"  
  
//Then… he did something, long ago, didn't he? Like the Alliance… only he regrets it.// Duo felt his chest hurt at the idea. It was hard to imagine the innocent-seeming boy a ruthless, cruel killer. "For what he did?"  
  
Quatre paused, frowning a little at the crowd of revelers. "No," he decided at length. "More like… he failed them somehow."  
  
//Failed them? By being part of Oz? Did he fail to stop Oz from some vile action? Or is it by joining Oz at all?//  
  
"Master Quatre! Duo!" Rashid's voice derailed his train of thought. The burly figure practically charged through the crowd to reach them, plowing a path for two other Maganacs.  
  
"What's wrong, Rashid?" Quatre asked urgently, posture signifying that he must be sensing something agitating them.  
  
//Uh-oh… This must be big and bad!// A quick glance showed Duo that the boy sent to find the Maganac leader was nowhere to be found. //Where's…?//  
  
"Abdul picked up a fleet of trucks headed this way—we suspect they've mobile suits in the beds," the tall man rumbled over their heads, like a serious thunderstorm.  
  
//Well, guess they found us finally… Took them long enough.// "How'd they find us?" Duo asked resignedly.  
  
"How many and when?" Quatre piped in, almost at the same time.  
  
"We counted fifty, but likely more are elsewhere if they know about /us/, and they should be here in thirty minutes," Rashid calmly replied, taking one question at a time. "They might not suspect a Gundam here yet… As for /how/ they found us, we'd have to ask your young friend." Frowning, the Maganac turned to look over his shoulder by the feet of Auada—then grimaced.  
  
Auada looked about wildly around his feet, then brought a fist against his palm. "Damn! He was right next to me when we were coming through the crowd!"  
  
//Zechs…// Duo blinked, stared at the empty space, and blinked again, because now his eyes were burning. //Did you…? But why /would/ you? This doesn't… But maybe we're being too harsh.// "Wait—Rashid, did you guys tell him before you found us?"  
  
The tall Arabian nodded firmly, looking thoughtful… before suddenly groaning. "He'd better not be taking that white thing out!"  
  
"He promised not to," Duo admitted, though immediately his mind jabbered, //He promised not to /fly/ it—but he can still fire that damn gun from the ground!//  
  
"He might be just getting out of sight," Quatre reasoned. "He /is/ rather conspicuous."  
  
//I hope so, I really do,// Duo sighed mentally. "Well, then we'd better follow his example, because /we/ don't exactly blend in, either!"  
  
"We'll be getting our suits in place to fight—but you two should keep your Gundams out of it," Rashid declared firmly, in a tone broking no argument. "We should be able to handle them by attacking from the sand bunkers outside the village… and then, only if necessary. For all we know, they're passing through."  
  
Quatre sighed quietly, resignedly. "Well, we'll watch what they do in the village from the windows of our rooms—they look onto the main streets, after all… If things get bad, we'll have to help, though, Rashid! We can't let the people get hurt!"  
  
//I definitely want to watch!// Duo decided. //And I'm NOT letting them hurt anyone here. I… /like/ these people. I WILL protect them!// A vision of flowers being held out to him by a giggling girl flashed behind his eyes, tightening his resolve.  
  
"There's an evacuation tunnel through the main hanger," Auada informed them with a wink. "Trust us—nobody's going to get hurt. We'll help them escape before a battle can get into the village, and if we need to, we'll retreat into the desert, where they can't find us."  
  
"Then it's agreed? You'll stay out of it, Master Quatre?" Rashid demanded sharply.  
  
After a reluctant silence, the blonde Gundam pilot nodded. "All right… but I still don't like it, Rashid…"  
  
//Well, /I'm/ not promising anything… How much time left before they get here?// Duo glanced about worriedly. "We'd better get inside, then…"  
  
Rashid nodded, and led the way, his huge form making a path through unaware villagers too intent on having fun to notice their excited conversation moments before or their retreat now.  
  
As the two Gundam pilots moved to follow, Deathscythe's pilot caught at Quatre's arm to hiss urgently, "What about Zechs? Should we look for him?"  
  
After a brief hesitation, Quatre shook his head firmly and whispered back, "He'll be all right. I'm pretty sure he's already hiding somewhere where he can observe them…"  
  
//Then you don't think he betrayed us,// Duo decided, breathing a quiet mental sigh of relief. //I agree… They did too much to him recently for him to help them. But damn… I hope they don't find him! If they were cruel before, when he was an /adult/ prisoner, they'd be worse /now/! I hope he's hiding /really/ well…//  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --  
  
To be continued…  
  
"Remember when  
  
You were more easily led  
  
Behind the cricket pavilion  
  
And the bicycle shed?  
  
Trembling as  
  
Your dreams came true  
  
You looked right into those blue eyes and knew  
  
It was love  
  
And now you can't pretend  
  
You've forgotten all the promises of that first friend  
  
It's bad enough  
  
She knows how you feel  
  
But she's not prepared to share you with those memories  
  
So ask yourself now: can you forgive her  
  
If she begs you to?  
  
Ask yourself now: can you even deliver  
  
What she demands of you?  
  
Or do you want revenge?  
  
That's childish, so childish…" ---------"Can You Forgive Her?" by Petshop Boys 


	11. You've Forgotten All The Promises Of Tha...

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Eleven: You've Forgotten All The Promises Of That First Friend …  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Disclaimer—Owning nil has it's benefits… Nobody can take it away.  
  
Warnings—Eventual 2x6, at least in theory, not that you'll see anything more than the vaguest of insinuations yet. Sarcasm. Panic. Minor swearing. Things /almost/ blow up. Make that lots of things almost blow up.  
  
Party poopers arrive at the Maganacs' village and poop the party. Duo and Quatre get a quick course in Oz Explosives 101—How NOT To Blow Yourself Up! Zechs does something disobedient.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Duo leaned his backwards chair closer to the windowsill, frowning, arms folded before him, as he watched the activity in the fading light outside. Quatre, standing, also kept curious vigil, but from farther back in the room, where his fair hair was less of a beacon. The room was dark—and Duo's really, which they had decided had the best vantage point.  
  
//I don't trust those guys as far as I could kick their trucks…// Duo mused grimly, watching the machines rumbling in single file up the main dirt street towards the celebrating people. He could still hear the celebration continuing…  
  
//By now the Sheikh knows as well, and the Maganacs must be almost all in position…//  
  
"There's a lot of them," Quatre murmured from behind the braided pilot.  
  
//That's likely to change,// Duo growled mentally, eyes narrowing sharply as the line trailed to a halt. "I promised nothing… If it looks ugly, I'm helping out."  
  
Quatre shifted uneasily behind him. "Duo… please, not unless there seems to be no other choice. I'd… like to try and accede to Rashid's wishes. He's right, you know—if either of us join in, and they get word out about a Gundam here…"  
  
He didn't have to finish. Duo made a face. //Yeah, they'd hit us with everything they could dig up. It's one thing to hit /them/ off-guard, but if they can hit /us/ before we're ready, we're dead and dead /fast/!// "I know," he accepted with a sigh. "But better word gets out about us and your pals end up mad with me than your pals ending up dead."  
  
Quatre had no answer for that, nor did Duo expect one. They just watched the soldiers below…  
  
They could distantly hear that the celebration had died into silence in the center of the village. Then someone's voice carried, addressing the crowd loudly, though Duo couldn't distinguish the words from this distance, only a rising and falling tone.  
  
//It doesn't matter, though. They're either staying, or not. And if they're up to anything, they're hardly going to tell us straight out.//  
  
Under Duo and Quatre's unnoticed eyes, however, one truck stirred, and disgorged its inhabitants silently. Dark figures scurried through the shadowy streets below, forcing Duo to squint to make them out and figure out what they were up to.  
  
//Something in the back…? They're taking out some kind of crate… Takes four of them at least! I wonder what's in it… They're hardly a group to deliver weapons to us. But with all the townsfolk up there, listening to their leader, nobody's going to notice these things!//  
  
He felt a sudden urge to stick his head out the window and see if trucks farther back down the line were doing the same—dropping off packages—but he knew better. The light was fading, but not gone yet! And if they were performing these activities here, now, where the locals couldn't see, that meant two things…  
  
//One—they don't want anyone to watch. And two—any witnesses are sure to be silenced permanently! A Gundam pilot is of no use to the colonies dead, though—so keep your head in Maxwell!//  
  
"What could be in those boxes?" Quatre breathed softly, curiosity itching in his voice.  
  
//Just about anything from propaganda to cumbersome supplies they might want to drop, to useless equipment, to weapons and bombs. Yep, just about anything!// "I think we should go see when we get the chance…"  
  
"I agree."  
  
The box was neatly tucked against a shadowy wall by a closed shop, pretending it belonged there, politely out of the way of road traffic. Duo eyed it sharply, scratching at the back of his head, feeling a chill tease his spine as the bearers snuck back into their vehicle.  
  
//I don't like this. I don't like it at all.//  
  
"It's a danger. Something about those boxes is dangerous," Quatre's voice carried faintly to his ears.  
  
//I can agree with that.//  
  
The trucks started up again, then the line began moving on…  
  
"They're leaving?" Duo wondered out loud, a bit puzzled. //Does this mean they're going to try ambushing if any of us "rebels" leave the village? Or are they going for good? Or… What /could/ be in these boxes? Something to flush us out into a barrage of gunfire?//  
  
"Seems so," Quatre confirmed as the last truck rumbled by. He dared step closer to the window, frowning a bit in puzzlement, his gaze stuck to the unknown crate barely visible across the street.  
  
For a moment, both Gundam pilots glared at the unwanted "gift" suspiciously.  
  
"Well, better go check it out, then." Duo gripped the edge of the windowsill with both hands—and vaulted over, landing neatly on his feet in the street.  
  
Deathscythe's pilot made it to the crate in a couple strides, and studied it with hands on hips a moment. Then he heard Quatre's feet hit the ground with a soft thud behind him, felt the other pilot follow him to inspect the crate from behind his shoulder.  
  
//Where to start, where to start… Which end is up? Rude of them not to mark it…// "We'll need some tools, I think. A crowbar to start. But I'm /always/ prepared for this."  
  
With a broad grin, Duo reached to the back of his belt—and pulled a lengthy piece of heavy, hook-ended black metal from his belt and showed it to Quatre proudly. //Never leave home without it! Can't mention the millions of times it helped me out. /Never/ attempt to assault a mechanic—that's /asking/ for pain.//  
  
Quatre looked from crowbar to owner and back as if uncertain he should ask. From his expression, the Arabian young man decided against it.  
  
Duo couldn't help a chuckle at his fellow's expression, though. Quatre was giving him a look that better suited someone taking their eccentric choice in pets for a walk on a leash—say, a skunk or deadly viper.  
  
//Well, now to see what we've found…//  
  
With the ease of a professional salvage expert, Duo rammed the flat end under the lid of the crate and straightened, slamming down on the blunt side of the hook.  
  
With a soft creak, the lid came up.  
  
//Oh shit.//  
  
"A bomb," Quatre breathed softly, hands resting on the side of the crate—and tightening angrily. "How… How /dare/ they? There are innocent people here—families, children…!"  
  
Duo shoved the lid back against the wall, so the crate would stay open, and eyed the interlaced wires before them. //Damn and damn and damn! I don't know /this/ kind of set-up! /Heero/ might, but he's not here… It looks like… yes, there's a timer there, and a remote-control receptor there, but the rest is as tangled as a bowl of spaghetti! And that piece… Oh, royal shit…//  
  
"They can detonate by remote, too, it looks like… not just a timer… and they've got it set to go off if moved, with that Global Positioning Device hookup right there… And… It's set for midnight!"  
  
"We have to tell the Sheikh—and Rashid—and get everyone out of here," suggested Quatre. "Unless… well, you said you were a mechanic on that salvage ship, Duo. Do you think you can disarm this?"  
  
Duo leaned into the box, tracing a few wires with his fingers, a thrill of adrenaline charging his blood… //Maybe, if I'd time… If I'd some experience with this kind of spaghetti… How do they color-code their explosives? I know how the /rebels/ color-code… But we don't have time, and if I cut the wrong thing, it might set /all/ of them off prematurely!//  
  
Studying the mess in his hands, and thinking of the possible consequences, the black-clad Gundam pilot paused a long moment… then straightened, shaking his head. "I don't know this kind of set-up well enough to chance it. With time, maybe, and a good look at an old dud, maybe… but we don't have either. This kind of thing wasn't really my forte, you know."  
  
Hope died in Quatre's eyes, and both looked back into the crate with a mixture of anger and determination.  
  
"Heero probably would know," Duo sighed softly. //He's /never/ around when you need him!//  
  
Quatre tightened a glare at the tangle of wires and explosives. "Why…? Why would they kill innocent people like this?"  
  
"They never really /do/ change, I suppose," came a soft reply behind them, sounding disgusted.  
  
//Zechs!// Duo whirled to stare at the pale form, ghostlike in the darkening street behind them. "They do this kind of thing often, then…," he answered, unable to hold a growl from his voice, though it wasn't directed at the boy.  
  
Gleaming white-blonde hair dipped in a nod, as Zechs stepped closer to peer over the edge of the crate at its contents. "It's why I helped Treize's coup de tat." Long hair trailed over the edge of the crate to brush the wiring as the owner frowned studiously at the tangle.  
  
"Your revenge…," Quatre acknowledged, understanding. His voice hardened as he added, "I can understand, I think…"  
  
//Yes, that's why he joined, he said—to help destroy the Alliance and undo some of their actions… Wait a minute, how do you undo their actions? You can't bring lives back—so what /can/ you do?// Duo scratched the back of his head, bemused. //Though I can sympathize, too… They killed my "family," after all—the only kind I've ever really known...//  
  
Icy blue eyes flicked to Quatre, gleaming like a cat's in the moonlight. And in them was a sorrow that Duo recognized, a rage he knew and still felt himself, a pain he too still had yet to come to terms with. Only amplified. Not just loss fueled Zechs's feelings. Something else contributed, but what, Duo couldn't pinpoint… because it wasn't something he'd experienced personally before.  
  
"You /can't/ understand," Zechs whispered at Quatre quietly, those eyes shifting back to the bomb. He half-buried himself in the crate, lightly- bandaged hands fingering a few wires Duo had traced a short while before.  
  
//Um… I just did that, kiddo. It doesn't help. The wires don't sort themselves out for you when you stroke them.// But Duo understood what Zechs meant. Quatre still had his family, a home to go back to later, loved ones likely worried about him right now. //So that explains the nightmares. He survived an Alliance attack that killed his family… and simply went about his revenge on a different path from my way. I never considered attacking from /inside/, though they'd least expect it…//  
  
Pale hair was mingling with wiring in the vanishing light, though the former stood out like a glimmer of hope even in the shadows. Quatre simply watched, seeming thoughtful. Duo blinked slowly at Zechs as the boy continued delving into what was starting to seem like an expert examination, uncertain if the boy might find something he hadn't… and trying not to listen to the whisper of hope at the back of his mind saying that the boy /could/ and that's why it was taking longer.  
  
"As I said, they never change… and for once, that's good," the youth's voice carried from the mass of shadowed wiring and curtain of pale hair.  
  
//What?//  
  
"What do you mean?" Quatre piped up.  
  
//I want to know, too… Did I miss something?// Duo leaned over the side, squinting to see what Zechs was up to. Hard to see with all that hair and low light, and even Zechs had to shove gossamer strands out of his way occasionally.  
  
"They shove every cadet through some basic explosives training… With all the terrorist attacks on Oz and alliance bases, though, that's to be expected. But they teach how /their/ bombs are set up—which is good if the enemy borrows your stuff, but /not/ good if they make their own…" There was a grunt, and the boy squirmed, trying to reach farther…  
  
A pause. Then the sound of someone spitting their own hair from their mouth. Then more squirming.  
  
"If I could just…! Ah, yes. He /would/ put such in here…"  
  
Duo exchanged looks with Quatre. //He /knows/ the bunch that was just here? Or the bomb's maker? Well… I guess either one would make sense, as he was part of Oz, but… Well, I hope he can do something!// "Can you disarm it?" Deathscythe's pilot asked sharply.  
  
"Give me… Ungh… One minute…" Zechs hooked a knee on the edge and dug deeper. "Fools…! That shouldn't be upside-down…"  
  
Quatre shifted his weight a bit restlessly. "There might be others—and we only have until midnight. We need to know, Zechs," he insisted urgently.  
  
"It'd be easier if I had light, some twist-ties, a hairband, and while you're at it, my lost three-plus feet back," came the sarcastic rejoinder from the boy almost falling into the crate. "But… yes, I think I can show you how… in enough time… not to need to evacuate…"  
  
//Hey, that's good! But we'd better be careful…// Duo flashed Quatre a grin as the blonde Gundam pilot breathed a sigh of relief. "You go tell the townsfolk, Quatre, and get some tools. But I say we stick together in groups—no knowing if they dropped /people/ off as well!"  
  
Zechs's head popped up at that, and he wiped long bangs and sweat from his eyes. "Commander Girald wouldn't consider it," he stated confidently. "I /know/ this tactic…" Those eyes stared into some distant, invisible horror behind the Gundam pilots for a long moment… "I know it well…"  
  
//His… His family, maybe? They were killed somehow like this?// Duo wondered. He couldn't see a connection, though. As far as he knew, the Alliance never got credit for delivering bombs like this before… //Though that doesn't mean they never /did/ that!//  
  
Zechs blinked, then shook his head, coming out of his memories and offering a quick explanation. "It's to flush your Maganac Corps friends out into a killing gauntlet," he said, waving a hand at the village around them—nearly falling into the crate as a result.  
  
Duo grabbed his belt, smirking as he saved the youth from slapping face- first into the tangled—and potentially deadly—contents of the crate. //Silly kid. Got to have someone look out for you or you'll hurt your pretty little face!// "We kind of guessed that much."  
  
Quatre glanced towards the desert, not smiling. "Using innocents…? Or are they just 'caught in the crossfire'?"  
  
As Duo helped Zechs return to his feet on solid ground, he watched the boy slump his shoulders at Quatre's words.  
  
But Zechs's next words chilled them all to the bone.  
  
"No… it's intentional." The words were bitter, carrying an icy echo of helpless anger. "Justified slaughter of accomplices and supporters… They don't care." Jaws gritted with the faint snap of teeth meeting firmly, and the pale boy growled, "Their rule is this: there /are/ no innocents in war."  
  
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Zechs glared at the crate as he and Duo waited for Quatre to bring tools, light, and others to help find and disarm the rest of the bombs likely delivered that evening. Memories swirled at the edge of his thoughts, resisting attempts to drive them away, rather like painful gnats picking at his consciousness. They wouldn't leave him alone.  
  
//**Flames roaring in the palace, thick smoke choking and smothering and blinding, making his eyes run and his lungs ache… People running to escape, for the safety of outside, screaming as shots filled the air—almost all kin of his, people he knew, choosing the swifter death of gunfire from the waiting firing squad outside to that of burning alive… And he stood still inside, unable to choose… Because he had to live… /Someone/ had to! And to do that, he had to find a way to get out… Alive… Somehow…**//  
  
Duo was silent, a darker shadow in the darkness—Zechs's eyes couldn't pick him out anymore, but he could feel the Gundam pilot waiting, watching patiently, an air of quiet determination radiating from him.  
  
Miri just closed his eyes, leaned his back against the side of the crate, and let the memories come.  
  
//**Down—that had to be the way to go. Somewhere, on the ground floor, there had to be a way… Getting there was easy, but the blood on the walls, the torn and flaming hangings, the still bodies he nearly fell over on the floor, they were like bullets riddling his soul… Like the servants, like many of his relatives, he had heard the gunfire of assassination below and run down to aid those downstairs, only to be chased back up by further shots—and now were trapped in an inferno intentionally set to finish them off… He hadn't imagined the sights he would see, the faces of those massacred, his parents among them… but they drove him all the harder to endure, to survive, to escape! And then—a lucky break—a glimpse of movement—and he dove after it in silence, keeping low under the worst of the smoke… Abruptly he fell into clear air, tripping over the threshold of the garden doors—and luckily so, for the plundering soldier he had followed turned to glance back and ended up looking well over his head… Taking a single deep breath, he had taken one more stumbling step to get out of the building and duck into the bushes either side of the doors, ignoring flaming chunks of roofing trickling down onto his hair like sparkling remnants of fireworks, desperately smothering his gasping breaths into a singed and ragged sleeve so he wouldn't be heard… So he wouldn't be shot.**//  
  
Duo shifted, sitting on the dirt with his back to the crate—Zechs could hear and feel the movement, but not see it. Night was here, and had taken control. It seemed to echo the despair he felt back then…  
  
//**Glass exploded from the picture windows above, sharp shards raining down on his head like confetti. He didn't feel pieces cutting through cloth and into skin, the bushes not protecting him much from the sharp hail. He /did/ see a large jagged chunk, the size of a dagger of old, slap into the dirt right by his hand like a mocking gift from heaven. And something made him pick it up, wince as the sharp sides cut his fingers. Holding it, he had to smother a half-gasping laugh of despair, of hopelessness, of self-derision—what could such a puny thing do? What could /he/ do? A fragile piece of glass, against an army with guns? Nothing… It was all futile. The world was ending, and he could do nothing for those who depended on him, now that his parents were dead.**//  
  
Distantly, absently, he could hear footsteps running through the streets, soft calls, as the villagers hunted out the other crate-bombs.  
  
//**Footsteps dashed out of the building next to him, passing him at a desperate run, a hunched figure coughing and wheezing, clutching something—someone?—precious close to his chest, running blindly past the soldier who Miri had followed out, oblivious to the danger. The soldier yelled, lifting his gun to fire, and the escaping man glanced back, freezing… Pagan—his dark hair and moustache unmistakable, eyes wide with a bleak, almost desperate determination—a squirming young girl wrapped in a blanket clutched close protectively… Relena. The man had managed to find and grab Relena. Relena—who Miri had hunted for in the flames and smoke until it drove him down from the upper levels of the palace for at least /slightly/ clearer air, heart-broken and guessing she was already dead… Pagan had saved a hope that Miri had given up on… **//  
  
//**Miri had no choice—some higher power drove him to act, and forever changed him then and there.**//  
  
The boy's pale head lifted towards the stars, his pained gaze staring beyond their twinkling lights.  
  
//**The soldier never knew what hit him. Miri didn't make a sound—who would have breath to after all that smoke?—as he ran up behind the man and jumped as high as he could, at the man's shoulders, the chunk of jagged glass flashing down between both his hands and driven by momentum and all the child's weight… It sank in like a hot knife into butter, diving between ribs, into lungs, as the soldier staggered beneath the impact, went down… Then Miri was kneeling on the man's back, staring at what he'd done, at his slashed hands, his blood mingling with that of the soldier… The soldier coughed once, then lay still… so still beneath him. Dead.**//  
  
//I killed him…//  
  
People walked up, carrying a light… Distantly, Zechs felt like he had an audience of ghosts watching those memories with him, for those who arrived must have seen his blank, staring gaze and kindly decided to wait…  
  
//**He had looked up, horrified at himself, numbed to the core, to catch Pagan's gentle, sad gaze, to see the man reach a hand towards him as if to save him, to see the man's lips move, shaping his name… Miri hadn't heard it. The roaring fire and guns and screams of people dying at the other ends of the palace seemed to drown everything… and take Miri's soul with them. He had stared at that proffered hand—and known right then that he couldn't accept it, that what had just happened was irreparable, a step down a road he could never return.** Look at what I've done… What have I become? My God… My God… I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm SORRY! **So much blood. So much death. And he had leapt to his feet and fled blindly out into the night leaving Pagan and Relena behind, knowing he could never return, that he was and forever will be no longer a Peacecraft… That he couldn't afford to be. It hurt, it burned with shame, it ached because it broke all the loving ties he had ever known. Another person—maybe Relena?—would have to be a Peacecraft—because someone else was needed right now, someone who had to do things a Peacecraft couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't… And he would fit that role perfectly, even if he didn't want to admit it right then…**//  
  
Zechs shook his head slowly, almost sadly, closing his eyes and opening them slowly again, pulling free of the memories—which, now that they had a chance to give their say, seemed more willing to leave him be.  
  
//Like a fairy-tale… A changeling neither fey nor man, apart from both worlds.// Turning his gaze, he flashed a sad smile at Duo, Quatre, and the assembled makeshift disarmament crew that flickered in the light of over a dozen torches and lamps and flashlights. //I won't let them repeat the past.// "All right, I'm ready."  
  
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Duo ended up the one half-buried in the crate. Mainly because while Zechs had the knowledge, he did NOT have long enough arms to reach the right places for clipping wires, at least not without climbing into the awful mess and possibly setting something off.  
  
//Well, call it a crash-course in Oz Bomb Design 537. It /has/ to be graduate-level. Only they would make things this complicated—and I bet it's on purpose, too!// Snagging a section of wire that apparently made up the remote set-off's connection, he wiggled it for Zechs to identify. "Okay, where do I start here?"  
  
He could hear the boy levering higher on the side of the crate to peer at the tangled mass. "What part is it? I can't tell what kind of box it is from here."  
  
"Remote device's pick-up. Let's see…" Duo reached out to shift a flashlight precariously balanced on the timer for a better view. "I've red, blue, light blue, green, and grey here…"  
  
A finger tapped the wood in slow rhythm for a moment beyond his sight. Zechs was thinking…  
  
//Well, at least we cut off the timer. Though if they try the remote set- off the moment they realize it didn't explode, that doesn't help us any…//  
  
"Treize's rose in a blue vase," came a thoughtful murmur.  
  
//Uh… I /really/ hope he didn't chose this moment to lose it.// "Hmm?"  
  
"Dark blue, then red, green, light blue, grey." Zechs's voice was louder this time. "Sorry—I have interesting ways of memorizing things."  
  
//Hey, if it works…// Wire clippers made faint snapping sounds as Duo carefully snapped the colored lengths in the correct order. "Well, it seems to have worked so far… How about this next bunch? White, cream, red, blue, orange…"  
  
"All Oz boys get blasted?" came a half-giggle, half-chuckle. "Blue, red, cream, orange, white."  
  
Duo laughed softly, shaking his head and pausing to throw his braid back out of his way before snipping in the correct order. "How'd you come up with these things?"  
  
"I never said I /wanted/ to be a soldier… My whole family was against war—they'd disown me for what I am now… if they still lived." The answer was quiet, almost bitter. "Circumstances drove me onto this path, though..."  
  
Snorting, Duo, finished clipping the last of those wires. //It's easy to get lost in society—Fate doesn't hold a knife to your throat, after all. Killing is a choice.// "You'd a choice, though. Everyone does. You could always have just sat out and become an accountant or something…"  
  
"No." It was a faint breath of an answer, sad and painful. "Any other path, and I would have been dead even sooner… Besides…"  
  
//Dead sooner? People don't hunt accountants…// Duo shook another handful of wires. "Red, blue, brown, green, black, white… Besides what?"  
  
"That's the set-off section—cut as close to the connections as you can. Apocalypse now… um… black, green, brown, blue, red, white…" A long pause followed, and Duo could feel Zechs debating ignoring the earlier question and answering it. Finally, the boy added softly, "It's a long story."  
  
Straightening from the crate, Duo shook his braid back over his shoulder and glanced over at Quatre, who had been writing down the correct cutting order for the various sections of wiring so that multiple teams could work on various bombs at the same time. Zechs was looking at his sandals, clearly in no mood to explain that elusive thing driving his revenge.  
  
//It hurts him. Pacifist family… What /would/ drive someone to do the opposite of what they've been taught is right? Or the opposite of what they believe in? What could be that big, that important? I don't understand.// Duo shook those nagging questions aside. //We've bigger problems right now, buddy. Get these bombs done with, then go kick some Alliance ass!//  
  
"Well, one down. How many to go, Quatre?" the braided Gundam pilot asked, grinning broadly.  
  
Quatre smiled gently, setting a clipboard down on the corner of the crate and scrawling even as he spoke. "Nine, actually. But once I make copies of the cutting orders, we can split up and disarm all of them quickly. Groups of four at least, I think, is best. Like you said earlier—someone on guard, just in case, someone to read the order, someone to take care of the lighting, and someone to be reaching around in there."  
  
Glancing over at the fair-haired boy, Duo winked. //We'll finish in time, then.// "Hey, kiddo—want to work on the next together, too? We make a good team."  
  
A silent nod was the only answer from the fair boy. Those ice-blue eyes wouldn't meet Duo's gaze.  
  
Duo sighed. //All right, I won't press you further, kiddo. But it's hard not to ask when you try to hide so much. And it's hurting you—even I can see that keeping it in will kill you.// "Hey, I'll drop the annoying questions, okay? We've lots to do, anyway…"  
  
Zechs nodded slowly, and smiled slightly. "It's all right… But what will we do for the Maganacs? After the bombs, I mean. They're headed into a trap."  
  
Quatre shook his head, looking up from his copying and swiftly handing the instructions out to the villagers around them. "I had someone warn them. They know the Alliance is out there waiting for them—and Rashid's putting them in good positions to handle the lot. They won't get caught in a gauntlet. Auada's manning the communications and general radar, so we can monitor the fight, too. If need be, we'll get our Gundams, but… not unless there's no other choice."  
  
Duo could see the ex-Oz pilot absorbing that information, figuring out the reasons for their actions… and those icy eyes lifted, determined and sharp. There was something… something Duo couldn't put a finger on in that gaze… Something sad, but driven.  
  
//What are you thinking of, Zechs? I wish I could look inside that blonde head of yours. You're up to something…//  
  
But before Duo could say anything, the boy nodded, ducking under long bangs again. "Well… guess we'd best get working on the next bomb…"  
  
So Duo let it drop, though he felt a nagging suspicion…  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --  
  
Quatre had been repeating the cutting instructions for Duo the last couple bombs, because Zechs had lapsed into silence, hanging back from them as well as the two villagers helping out with the lamps and flashlights. Something was bothering the boy, the blonde Gundam pilot could feel it. Fear was there, with determination, and a kind of acceptance… and sorrow. Always sorrow. Everything hurt so much, and it made Quatre feel melancholy just to be near the boy…  
  
//I wish I could help him, somehow. All this business with the Alliance hurts him. But he won't talk, Duo proved that much. And talking is what he needs…//  
  
"Okay, that's the last of this one," Duo sighed, straightening, hands going to his sore back. "The last we have to do, right? The others got the rest?"  
  
A triumphant wave of relief washed through Quatre. //Thank Allah.// "Yes, it's the last. And…" He paused to look at his watch. "We've fifteen minutes left."  
  
Duo let out a whistle, rubbing the back of his head and grinning broadly, yet wearily. "Thank God. My back's had enough. At least /this/ town's not going to end up as a mess of rubble."  
  
//Yes… Thank Allah for that, too,// Quatre sighed quietly to himself, looking up at the stars. //They're good people. They don't deserve this.//  
  
Together, they stood in silence, counting down… Then gunfire signaled midnight, a roar of flying bullets and energy weapons well over the rooftops as mobile suits began blasting away.  
  
//Rashid and the Maganacs are hard at it,// the blonde Gundam pilot mused, watching the exchange cris-crossing above. //There's heavier fire coming from the Alliance troops… Are there more of them than we saw?// A thrill of worry tickled the young man's spine.  
  
"There's a lot of firing from the west…" Duo murmured thoughtfully.  
  
Quatre began towards the entrance for the underground base, pace quickening. "I just realized… They may have had a lot more reinforcements than we saw enter the village earlier. We'd better go see if Rashid and the rest can handle it…"  
  
The gunfire above and thud of mobile suit feet only seemed to get heavier from the west, though, even as they hurried through the dark streets.  
  
"We may be too late, Quatre! It looks like they can't hold! This is getting too damn close!" Duo hollered.  
  
Whirling onto the pair of villagers who had been part of their team, Quatre quickly pointed them towards the Sheikh's home. "Tell him to get evacuating! This may get bad!"  
  
Duo abruptly stopped in his tracks, and Quatre couldn't help bumping into his back at the sudden halt. Deathscythe's pilot had suddenly remembered something, and it nearly panicked him. Confused, breathless, Quatre stared at his fellow Gundam pilot with concern.  
  
"What—what's—?" the blonde began.  
  
"Zechs? Where is he?" Duo demanded, eyes scanning desperately.  
  
//Zechs? But he was right… No, wait.// Quatre blinked, then felt a chill of dread. "I thought he was…"  
  
Duo shook his head slowly, firmly.  
  
"He wasn't helping on the last one, and when you looked up he wasn't… I didn't even realize…" Quatre breathed in horror, realizing that since they began working on the last bomb, he hadn't seen that fair hair gleaming in the moonlight beside them. //Oh damn… And he felt… Something's wrong, something bad—I /feel/ it!//  
  
Duo's eyes were slowly widening, and flicked down in silent horror.  
  
Then Quatre could feel it, too. A rumbling. Something stirring beneath them, shaking things with slowly increasing power. A growing earthquake.  
  
"Shit… no!" Duo whispered, as if to someone far away. Then he whirled and ran desperately for the hangers.  
  
//Oh no, oh no, please Allah…// Quatre begged, dread numbing his feet, though he struggled to keep Duo in sight.  
  
Something roared, making the houses rattle.  
  
"Not the Tallgeese! It'll kill you!" Duo screamed breathlessly, steps not faltering.  
  
Then, with a final shudder, the earthquake stopped—and a streak of light tore into the sky above them.  
  
"NOOO!" Duo wailed, halting in his tracks to stare up in horror at the gleaming white suit reaching for the sky, fists balled at his sides.  
  
//Great Allah…!// Quatre could only stare, numb.  
  
//He's going to suicide to help us!//  
  
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To be continued.  
  
Just a thought. Zechs knows the enemy general—so he'd know the guy's tactics and what he's likely to do and how. So he'd guess there's back-up. And he's the kind to sacrifice himself for a good cause—like keeping the knowledge of two Gundams in the area from Oz/Romefeller.  
  
By the way, thanks for the reviews, guys! Glad you're enjoying this! I know some of you don't care much for the predetermined pairing—but honestly, you won't see more than literally one kiss at the very end chapter, and I can make an alternative ending (which would make the tale pairingless) if people want. Otherwise, you'll have to wait until I get the other stories I have in mind into text form. ;) So far, they're just imagination. 


	12. And Now You Can't Pretend

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Twelve: And Now You Can't Pretend…  
  
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Disclaimer—I do not own Gundam Wing or any characters thereof. Don't tell me that surprises you!  
  
Warnings—Things blow up. People die. Of course, not the ones we like… Minor wearing. Upset characters. Mental anguish. High stress. Probably higher blood pressures, but nobody's taking them, so who'd notice? Too much other stuff going on.  
  
Yep, Zechs took the Tallgeese finally, so gotta backtrack slightly. Things could be easier. Things could be worse, too… And maybe they get worse? Duo and Quatre are pulling their hair out. Treize is… well, you'll see.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
Miri stared up at the white behemoth a long moment, legs shaking from the strain of all he'd brought along. It weighed a lot.  
  
//I can do this. I have to do this. They won't scream for help if I show up—because they know I wouldn't stay after such a battle. And the Maganacs need help. He's got reinforcements—I know he's /that/ intelligent.//  
  
He shivered, and lifted a lightly-bandaged hand to stare at it, memories of blood staining him. Despair trickled with the sweat tickling his spine under his blue shirt.  
  
//I HAVE to do this.//  
  
That hand slapped the control for the pilot's line, and he leapt up to grab it, swinging his foot expertly into the stirrup for the ride up.  
  
//There's nobody else…//  
  
The open cockpit beaconed like a warm embrace of a friend. Hopping onto the landing, Zechs swung the heavy bag from his shoulders and ducked inside.  
  
//They live in peace… They aren't stained yet by blood… Like I am.//  
  
Duct tape was spread with expert efficiency. Clay bricks were taped up. A heavy book found itself bound to the seat. Two wooden backscratchers found themselves adhered to unusual positions. Then, taking a deep breath, the boy jumped into the seat, tucking the empty sack into a crevasse between the seat cushion and the armrest, and using his belt to bind the roll of duct tape to his side.  
  
Belts clipped into place, echoing in the silence of the cockpit.  
  
Then expert small hands flew over the buttons and switches, powering the mammoth white suit up and closing the cockpit. The Tallgeese rumbled, engines whistling softly as they began to warm up. A faint vibration, like a heartbeat, thrummed through the cockpit, drawing a sad smile.  
  
//I have to do this!//  
  
Icy blue eyes closed slowly, painfully.  
  
//I'm sorry, Duo, Quatre. But I have to. I'm better suited to help them than you. But you won't forgive me for it. The two of you care… I've noticed that much. And I care for you. But I'm more expendable. And you know it.//  
  
Miri lifted the cracked mask up off his lap slowly, and placed it over his head firmly, tucking his long hair about so it fit snugly and stayed out of his way.  
  
"My beloved Tallgeese… You've served me faithfully. Let it be so until the end…"  
  
It hurt to say it. It hurt to admit that he was facing death. Yet it brought a sense of peace with it, a sense of immortality, a mixture of helplessness and limitless power. Suddenly, he knew—this was what Heero, the pilot of Gundam 01, must feel. It was why the Gundams won every battle against Oz.  
  
Zechs growled under his breath, suddenly defiant—to the Alliance, the Gundams, to Fate itself. //I'm not dead YET!//  
  
A nudge, and the Tallgeese walked heavily through the hanger towards one of the desert exits from the underground base. He could hear gunfire ahead, and paused the heavy suit a bit behind the Maganacs' line, building the engine-power up…  
  
//Time to move the White Knight on the chess-board!//  
  
Expert hands flicked over switches and buttons, aided by the back- scratchers taped firmly to his forearms to reach the most distant controls. Feet weighted down by bricks abruptly lifted, taking the suit's feet up with them—and Zechs slammed hard on the engines' throttle.  
  
The Tallgeese blasted out over the heads of the Maganac Corps's suits, paused for the briefest instant just outside the doors, then roared straight for the stars like a silvery flare, twirling through the crossfire like a ballet dancer prancing through a minefield.  
  
Zechs's yell was half determined adrenaline, half amazed triumph, and a fair dose of excited panic. The G-forces were incredible! Pinned to the seat, he couldn't help but wonder, //Can I even /stop/ this thing?!? Oh God, don't doubt yourself /now/, Miri—it's too late!!!//  
  
He knew he'd have to. There was no choice.  
  
"Zechs!" Rashid's voice was a bellow of anger over the coms. "What do you think you're doing?!?"  
  
Struggling to breathe against the pressure on his chest, the boy reached a shaking arm for the throttle and eased off, almost gasping in relief as the pressure eased enough for him to talk. Bringing the Tallgeese to a hover well above the fighting, he brought the beam rifle to bear with a wicked grin, and flicked up a visual for Rashid.  
  
"Taking the high ground." Zechs couldn't help pausing a little between the words, as he was still getting his breath back—but it made his voice almost a good octave closer to normal, he noticed. //Thank God. I don't like being so high-pitch…// "First checkmate—which should shake him up a little. Commander Girald's no fool, Rashid…"  
  
The older man frowned, almost glowering, and stayed silent a long moment. Then he nodded slowly. There was pain in those dark eyes. "You shouldn't be in this," he rumbled firmly, reproachfully.  
  
//Should /you/?// Miri whispered to himself sadly. //I'm not the only one who shouldn't be forced to fight.// "No, you're right. But the Tallgeese should. Better she kills me than one of them…"  
  
Those dark eyes stared into him, hearing unspoken, //Otherwise, a Gundam pilot would have done it. And they don't know the Tallgeese. It would kill them as surely as it will me. I at least know her—maybe I can avoid her worst—or at least save them, so they can continue. Because they can fight Romefeller, and I can't… The way my body is now, I'd never manage it.//  
  
"Allah be with you," the older man whispered. Then, louder, "Bring that museum reject back in one piece, or I'm locking your rollerblades up for good!"  
  
Zechs's eyes grew damp, and he smiled shakily, lifting a hand in a mischievous salute. "I'll do my best, sir," he answered, cutting the connection.  
  
The beam rifle began blasting Alliance suits on the ground like a cannon taking out lined-up targets in a carnival stall. Zechs could hear the confusion among Commander Girald's troops over the Oz channel even before the first shot hit.  
  
"It's the Tallgeese!"  
  
"But—he's on our side, isn't he?"  
  
"Ahhhhh!!!!" That one was cut off quickly.  
  
"Commander! Commander! What's going on?!?"  
  
Then, a colder voice, more of a growl of rage than words. "Kill him!"  
  
"Yes sir!"  
  
As one, weapons lifted towards the gleam of a suit in the sky…  
  
//Don't fail me, Tallgeese…//  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --  
  
Duo dashed through the corridors, wishing he /was/ wearing rollerblades because then he could be moving faster. Tears blurred his eyes. //Oh God, oh God, it's going to kill him! That monster's too violent—he said it himself! Why, damn it why? Why did he take it up?!?//  
  
He knew, though. Because either he or Quatre would have likely done it. The Alliance wouldn't roar as much over the Tallgeese's appearance as a pair of Gundams! And if it nearly killed Zechs on /his/ first try…  
  
//It would've maimed whoever took the bloody thing up—face it, Duo! He did it to spare you and Quatre! But damn it—damn /him/—he /promised!//  
  
Duo tore into the communications room, to find Auada choking on a mug of coffee. Before the man could finish recovering, Duo attacked the controls, switching over to the Tallgeese…  
  
Just in time to see Zechs grit his teeth, bracing best he could against the G-forces trying to make him into a pancake on the left sidescreen of the cockpit.  
  
"ZECHS!" Deathscythe's pilot hollered, half in panic.  
  
The boy winced at the sheer volume, coughed, and suddenly jerked at the controls before firing the beam rifle again, barely managing to fight next rush of G-forces enough to tap it in time.  
  
A blip on the radar that marked an Alliance mobile suit winked out.  
  
Desperately, Duo sought a visual of the activity outside, ignoring a spluttering and protesting Auada. //He hasn't /time/ to answer! God, how bad is it up there?//  
  
Bad. The Maganacs were outnumbered—the radar said that loud and clear. The visuals arrived in time to show the Tallgeese practically dancing between bullets and beam shots, trying to get a few blasts in to help. Dodging and whirling and… /dancing/. Zechs handled the thing like a fighter-plane as well as like a part of his own body—a combination Duo had never seen anyone do before, not even Heero. Trying to hit it was like trying to punch a carp underwater—it just slid out of the way in the last second.  
  
But the toll showed on Zechs's face and body. The sudden leaps and whirls were practically flinging him around the cockpit like a rag toy. The mask's long crack had already branched from the violence, practically blinding the boy's left eye.  
  
//It'll kill him!// "Get back down here!" Duo screamed desperately. "Zechs—you /promised/…!"  
  
"I'm /not/ flying it—I'm hanging on for dear life, Duo!" the boy protested gaspingly.  
  
There was a bellow from Rashid, and the Maganac Corps rained a wall of bullets onto the enemy troops from a new angle, cutting down the fire attacking the Tallgeese by giving the shooters something new to think about.  
  
A number of blips vanished as if pretending they never existed on the screen.  
  
//A respite! Thank God!// Hoping for a response, Duo yelled, "Get your rear back down here /now/!"  
  
Breathing heavily, Zechs pulled the Tallgeese to a different vantage point, hands flying to aim to beam rifle again. If he'd heard Duo, he wasn't answering…  
  
//Listen to me! Damn it, don't ignore me!// Duo grabbed the microphone and shouted, "Damn it, get back down here, Zechs! That thing's killing you! You can't take more of that!"  
  
"I—I have to!" the pale youth answered desperately, pounding the firing button as fast as he could. "They'd /know/ it was you rather than me, don't you see?!? Had to be Tallgeese—had to be /my/ style!"  
  
He was right… But even knowing that tore Duo's heart. //God—I'm going to watch him die, and I can't DO anything about it!//  
  
Return fire attacked the Tallgeese's new position, forcing Zechs back into silence with another round of dodging.  
  
Auada was hurriedly conferring on his headset to Rashid and other Maganacs, even as blips moved about…  
  
It was then that Duo realized what was going on, and his jaw dropped. //Their gameplan… He's part of Rashid's plan! He takes their attention, blasts them down, and Rashid moves with the rest to somewhere better while they're trying to shoot Zechs down… Then the Maganacs get a barrage in, and Zechs moves somewhere else… And it's working—it's WORKING!//  
  
They were starting to /win/.  
  
"Hang in there, kiddo! Hang in there!" Duo began yelling. //You might just make it! And when you get your butt back down here, kid, I'm giving you a damn /spanking/!!!//  
  
The Tallgeese's radar beeped shrilly at that moment.  
  
Zechs paled, eyes widening behind the glass of his mask until all Duo could see was pale blue…  
  
"Shit," breathed Auada in horror, drawing Duo's gaze to the radar. "Aries… A whole /lot/ of Aries!"  
  
Blips. Two waves of blips. Waves was right—there were too many. /Way/ too many! Oh, the first wave had maybe ten suits, but they were the fore guard to what looked like a damn army, stretching beyond the range of the radar…  
  
//Oh shit… We're /all/ dead.// "Quatre! Get your Gundam!!!" Duo hollered, though his own feet were riveted to the ground.  
  
A patter of buttons, a click—the Tallgeese discarded the beam rifle, letting it drop between two of the Maganacs to be a spare for them.  
  
Duo could only stare as Zechs activated the beam saber, turning the Tallgeese to face the rushing wave.  
  
"No, Zechs, don't—get out of here, get out of here while you can!" Duo breathed softly, a plea for deaf ears. He knew the boy wouldn't. //He won't. He'll take them with him… Like I would. Like Quatre would. Like Rashid, like Heero… Like all of us. Because he's one of us…//  
  
Briefly, ice-blue eyes behind cracked glass looked up into Duo's own, damp with pain and tears.  
  
"I'm sorry, Duo," Zechs whispered hoarsely. An apology for his behavior. For giving them any pain or anguish, even with his death. For things that might have been.  
  
Those eyes fixed on the tide of Aries, and shoulders straightened, that chin lifted… Zechs took a deep breath…  
  
With a building roar, the Lightening Count slammed the throttle as far as it would go, sending the Tallgeese rocketing straight for the heart of the enemy.  
  
Duo could only stare, eyes full of tears, unable to move his numb body. It would be quick, he knew. He could wait that long before grabbing his Gundam. It was all a friend could offer—to be there when all ended…  
  
//I'm sorry, too…// Deathscythe's pilot could only mouth the words.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The pain was gone—only his determination remained as the Aries zoomed closer. The Tallgeese was a silver-white arrow at the heart—and Zechs intended to make it a deep wound. Hands poised over the controls for a slight swerve, a flash of beam saber, and touched at the right instant.  
  
Two Aries in the vanguard exploded in his wake as he whipped between their positions, pretending to ignore them as he aimed for those amassed beyond.  
  
//I won't let you repeat Sanc,// Miri resolved in silent despair. //They're peaceful people—they'll stay in peace, free and safe!//  
  
Aries loomed closer. Unlike those first ten suits, this main wave apparently bore white bands on their suits, one a bit to the fore with a gold streak crowning the head. The Tallgeese angled for this prominent leader…  
  
The com beeped cheerfully.  
  
Zechs didn't even glance at the com. It was too late for chatter. He was going to die… //Can't they see I'm /busy/?!?//  
  
"That is hardly the way to greet an old friend, Zechs… Or should I call you by your other name?" A familiar, calm, even /amused/ voice.  
  
Miri gaped at the screen a long moment, hands still ready to act, the seconds before contact ticking down swiftly…  
  
//It can't be… But how…? Why…? Oh shit—watch OUT!//  
  
Eyes wide, Zechs hauled on the controls desperately, dragging the Tallgeese into a sudden swerve upwards in the last moment to evade the gold-marked Aries. The move smashed him into the seat, cracking his arm against the throttle—it took a moment's struggle for Zechs to lunge past the pain and bring the machine to a slower speed, then down to a hover. Coughing and gasping for breath now that the G-forces let him breathe, he let the Tallgeese sink down slowly to the level of the amassed white-marked Aries troops.  
  
A lightly-bandaged hand hit the com controls, bringing up a familiar face…  
  
"Treize?" Zechs whispered in almost disbelief.  
  
"I didn't think you need the Tooth Fairy," came a sly reply as the gold- marked suit came forward to meet the Tallgeese. "Aries troops seemed enough."  
  
//It's him. And I'm kicking his shins as soon as he touches the ground for that remark! Is he… Is he on /our/ side, or with Commander Girald?// "Treize," the boy growled hoarsely, to notify the former Oz leader that he had neither time nor patience at the moment for teasing. "Are you expecting us to surrender?"  
  
The tidy former general smiled slowly, his suit waving his troops onward… The surge overran the unmarked Aries and turned them into fiery shrapnel within seconds. "Hardly… Once we're done, /we're/ the ones surrendering… To you and your new allies, my friend. We have left Oz /and/ Romefeller."  
  
Relief flooded Zechs's body and he could feel his adrenaline fading under its impact, taking his strength with it. Suddenly he felt like human silly putty, and sore putty at that. Nothing felt broken, but by God, some of those bruises were probably permanent, and his hands were wet—old burns blistered and rubbed raw by the controls despite the bandages.  
  
//Thank God… I only hope they don't kill you, Treize…// Miri nodded slowly, and reached a hand to get a visual with Auada below. "They're with us, Auada… Tell Rashid and the rest…" He knew he sounded tired.  
  
Duo was there, at Auada's shoulder, quiet, hopeful, eyes sharp and wary. "You know each other…? Who is it?"  
  
//I owe you this much, Treize… You can escape them, if you want.// Turning his gaze back to Treize, Zechs paused, thoughtful, before offering—in what he knew was in vain, "Treize… You are putting your life at risk with this…"  
  
Treize's head dipped in aquiesance and mute acceptance of the risk. "I know. Tell them that I shall surrender even as my men help clean up."  
  
//Thought so. But thank you, Treize. I won't forget this.// Sighing softly, Zechs nodded slowly in silent sympathy, before offering Duo, "Treize…"  
  
"We heard," Deathscythe's pilot answered swiftly, smiling cheerfully. The cheerful smile hardened slightly after a moment, however. "Ground's clear below you… Now get your butt down here, or I swear, I /will/ spank you like the little kid you resemble!"  
  
Treize must have caught that, because he was laughing even as Zechs cut the connection—/all/ the com connections!—and sent the Tallgeese down in a descending hover.  
  
//I /will/ kick his shins…//  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
Duo pulled Auada's land rover up just in time to see the Tallgeese's engines cut off, the massive white suit slumping in a semi-kneeling position. He ignored the other mobile suits converging on the area, and ran up to the tab for the descent line, slapping it harshly, urgently.  
  
Silently, the dark line came down, and Duo leapt up, riding it up as the cockpit's landing came open.  
  
//Be okay—come on, kid, please, be okay? Please, Zechs… If you're half dead, I'll… I'll never forgive myself.//  
  
The braided Gundam pilot opened the hatch, ducking his head and shoulders inside—  
  
And blinked, sucking in a breath.  
  
The throttle, switches, and buttons were sticky, smeared with red blood. Oh, not a lot, but it was frightening to look at. The boy was slumped, breathing heavily, sweat trickling from under the mask and making his hair damp. Bruises were already darkening his bare arms and one side of his jaw. The mask displayed a couple cracks radiating from the first—which had widened—leaving one eyeglass a blinding array of shards. The light bandages covering the burns on Zechs's hands were bloody, rubbed raw by his struggle flying the stubborn mobile suit. But as Duo looked on, that fair head lifted, and a tired smile touched those visible lips.  
  
"I'm still alive," Zechs whispered hoarsely, eyes gleaming with gentle mischief.  
  
//Thank God! But if you think I'm not disabling this monstrosity so you can't ever repeat this again, you've got another thing coming!// But it was all bluster, sheer relief. Duo knew he wouldn't be able to do that. How could he ground a Gundam pilot? And was Zechs any different from the rest of them? No. No, Duo understood now. He understood a great deal.  
  
Duo just sighed and pulled out his pocketknife to attack the duct tape on the boy's forearms and legs. "You did it… because of the people…," he murmured quietly, not so much a question as a statement. //I'd have done it for them, too…//  
  
Zechs winced as the duct tape was ripped off his fair skin, and occasionally taking scabs from older injuries with it. But his head dipped in surrender. "Yes."  
  
Shaking his head over how Zechs managed to loop the duct tape about the calves of his legs as well as the clay bricks, Duo considered the answer silently. //In his dreams… "The people come first…!" Protecting the people. His family was responsible for people… so he is, too. Were they part of a peaceful government? If so, and it's gone, that explains why he feels he failed, like Quatre said. So he did this—to protect the village…//  
  
The boy waited passively as Duo freed him from his modifications, silent. But after Duo pulled the last of the tape off, he asked quietly, shyly, "Are you still going to spank me?"  
  
//He actually /believed/ that?// Duo snorted, rubbing the back of his head as he straightened. "No. but the threat got you down here, didn't it?" Grinning slyly, Deathscythe's pilot winked.  
  
Zechs groaned, and slid down off the seat, almost staggering on the platform, stiff. Even as Duo reflexively grabbed the boy's belt to keep him from tumbling off, Zechs's hands moved to ward off his help. But Duo was less tired, stronger, and the ex-Oz pilot's reaction was more a reflexive motion than anything, without much will or force behind it.  
  
//You're not in the best shape, kiddo. But at least you're alive!// Duo chuckled, shaking his head as Zechs sighed and rolled ice blue eyes at him. "You need a steadying hand, it seems. Come on—you know I'm not going to hurt you, and your hands are in no shape for holding onto the line anyway."  
  
Silently, the boy nodded.  
  
//We'll need that doctor again… I hope the Maganacs are all right, though.// Duo reached for the line, sipping his foot into the stirrup, and taking a grip on the back of Zechs's blue shirt to support the boy where he was least likely to be bruised and battered.  
  
Carefully, Zechs stood on Duo's foot, and trustingly let the Gundam pilot support him on the way down. Neither stepped off until it reached bottom, and then it was the boy first.  
  
"You're going to have to see the doctor again about those hands," Duo sighed, though he couldn't help a slight smile as he looked down at the pale boy. //You're very lucky, Zechs. That could have ended up a /lot/ worse!//  
  
"I know." The cracked mask didn't look up at him, but turned slightly…  
  
"Perhaps you should have started in the Academy a lot earlier than we thought," drawled an amused voice not far behind Duo. "Though we were pushing the age limit at thirteen at the time, I'm sure starting you a couple years younger wouldn't have caused any more uproar."  
  
Duo stiffened, hand itching to grab the gun at the back of his belt and turn it towards that voice. He forced himself to turn slowly and face the ginger-haired young general of Oz.  
  
//So… This is the famous—or is it infamous?—General Treize Kushrenada? The one obsessed with roses? I hope we don't have to get him any during his stay…// The man was faintly smiling—in a superior sort of way that seemed natural on the nobleman and rubbed Duo a bit the wrong way. //Arrogant guy, huh?//  
  
"Treize," Zechs greeted tonelessly, voice still rough and hoarse from yelling earlier. The mask hid whatever the boy was feeling, and what little of his face that showed offered no expression. "Thirteen was early enough."  
  
"Hm," Treize demurred, still slightly smirking, neither agreeing nor arguing with the sound.  
  
Duo eyed the taller man warily, wondering where he hid his gun. //Under the jacket, I bet… Those boots are a bit tight-fitting for it—pants, too.// "You /are/ surrendering, right?"  
  
A mischievous light touched the older man's eyes and twitched his mouth into a slight /genuine/ smile. "As soon as I know who to surrender to."  
  
Duo grinned sharply, and held out his hand. "I'm as good as any. The name's Duo Maxwell. Gun please."  
  
Treize barked a laugh, clearly amused by Duo's boldness and blunt attitude. "Just like that?"  
  
"Yep. We don't hold much on ceremony out here," Duo answered, dark blue eyes gleaming with sly amusement. //Just like that. You have /no/ idea what you're up against!//  
  
From the corner of his eyes, though, Duo saw Zechs smile slowly, almost evilly, an expression that made the ex-Oz general's mirth dampen and falter. //I take it Zechs doesn't smile that that very often…//  
  
"He forgot to add, 'Pilot of Gundam 02,' Treize." Zechs's voice was cool, calm, and carried a wealth of quiet amusement that echoed his slowly growing smirk.  
  
//We make /such/ a good team!// Duo crowed to himself, trying not to laugh at Treize Kushrenada's stunned expression as the man swiftly handed the ornate weapon over.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
To be continued.  
  
A thing I noted when watching the series was that only Zechs uses that fighter-plane style of flipping and rolling through the air when dodging shots with a mobile suit. Not even Heero does it in the show, just Zechs (can't say about Noin or Treize, though, as we don't see them fighting enough). Though it makes sense—likely Zechs learned to pilot planes before suits, and it carried over. And Quatre, the only one we see use a fighter plane, doesn't have a mobile suit that flies… Just something that hit me during the show. 


	13. I Wouldn't Normally Do This Kind Of Thin...

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Thirteen: I Wouldn't Normally Do This Kind Of Thing…  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Disclaimer—No, you /still/ can't have the fish. Besides, he's nasty and kills even pacifist fish, and is prone to suicidal actions like diving down the garbage disposal. I'm debating changing his name to Treize or Duke Dermail… The question being is it simply warlike instincts, or sheer cruelty behind his actions…?  
  
Warnings—Minor swearing (I don't like the F-word, and besides, that's so unoriginal). Some yelling and minor violence. People get kicked in the shins. Suspicions abound. Coffee is consumed… Beware of the consequences of caffeine, mu-wah-ha-ha-ha!  
  
The Maganacs try to get some semblance of organization going to accommodate these new guests. Treize does a bit of explaining and negotiating. Heero and Trowa arrive to stir things up again. Zechs is grounded… Well, maybe for just right now.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---  
  
Miri stopped by the hangar on his way to the dining room. It was habit, really, to check on his suit after a battle, hurt or not, just to be sure someone was seeing to it, getting it ready for the next fight. No point making plans for future fights if your weapons were sitting out on the last battlefield, rusting!  
  
The Tallgeese was there. One of the Maganacs must have brought it in somehow—not that starting it up and walking it in was that difficult, but by now everyone must have known how deadly the suit's G-forces were.  
  
//Good job, Tallgeese…// the boy mused affectionately, looking up at the metallic beast from a spot by the hangar doors as Maganacs swarmed about it, priming the beam rifle, fixing damaged spots, and fine-tuning the verniers. Next to it stood Treize's Aries, slightly dwarfed by the mammoth old suit, gleaming a dull blue with two matching "racing" white stripes down the shoulders and gold accenting the top like a small crown. //You did well… and you're in good hands. I'll check on you later.//  
  
Turning, Zechs walked on through the corridors, pace slow and weary. He felt tired and sore still… He had seen the doctor immediately, mainly at Duo's insistence, and had his hands re-bandaged and bruises treated—so he wasn't quite as sore as when he walked in. But under the ointments and salves—or whatever they smeared on him—a constant dull ache remained, waiting…  
  
//Pain is a patient thing… I suppose I'm fated to never be painfree? Maybe even as an accountant I'd have been stuck with feeling it regularly—and guzzling Pepto-Bismol to endure the days… Ah well.// Resigned, he let his body move at its own pace. Those fast reflexes were inclined to be quite useless now—his body simply didn't want to move. It wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep until the pain went away. //But this is an important conference.//  
  
By the time he reached the conference, it was clearly already in full- swing. He could hear their voices from down the hall…  
  
"Okay, so essentially, we've ALL agreed that /Romefeller/ is the enemy," Duo's voice summed up wearily, finally subduing the tangled murmurs of suspicion and confusion by drowning them out.  
  
Quieter mutterings of assent echoed him.  
  
"We have to trust each other if we're to work together, though," Quatre piped in.  
  
Turning into the doorway, Miri paused. Then frowned. All he could see were backs and feet. //I hate being three feet tall. You can't see squat…// For someone who used to see over everyone's heads to suddenly be relegated to a view under the table, it's a big change. And not one generally considered pleasant. //I just should be glad they didn't put me in a high-chair, I suppose!//  
  
"Feeling all right, Zechs?" Quatre's voice offered from across the table as the shorter boy sought one of the empty chairs.  
  
//How does he /do/ that? It's like he reads minds…// "Yes, I'm fine," Miri answered, clambering up and settling himself. And wishing he was himself again because the damn thing made him feel all the smaller Like the seat of the Tallgeese—it just wasn't designed for him, too spacious! Glaring at the table-top so uncomfortably close to his face, he added in an undertone, "Though I wish I dragged that book from the Tallgeese and kept those damn bricks strapped on."  
  
Duo's chuckle made Zechs shift his glare across the table, but he only got a cheeky grin for his efforts.  
  
"This is quite a new perspective of you, Zechs," Treize commented smoothly, amused. "Usually I have to talk to high, inanimate objects…"  
  
Ice-blue eyes narrowed sharply behind the cracked mask, and the boy shifted in his seat. //THAT does it…!//  
  
"Ouch!" The ex-Oz general jumped in surprise in his seat, reaching under the table to rub a new bruise by his kneecap. "What was /that/ for?"  
  
Two more followed in quick succession, making Treize wince visibly and yelp. "One was for old time's sake, that was for laughing earlier, and /that/ was for taking so damn long!" //And we /still/ need to talk about certain important details concerning Romefeller that you kept from me! You /had/ to have known Duke Dermail was behind my family's massacre!//  
  
Holding hands up in a warding-off gesture, Treize mock-cringed in his seat. "My apologies, Mi—Zechs. I would have come sooner, but Duke Dermail's soldiers turned out surprisingly loyal… Or stubborn, at least. In addition, in war it is rather difficult to drop everything at a moment's notice and join the opposition…"  
  
//So you were forced to do some hasty reassignments… But that means you /are/ committed to this. I suppose that's good.// Miri couldn't stop the edge of his mouth from quirking slightly. "All right… I suppose you've an excuse… You could have at least set Lady Une on my trail, though."  
  
"Lady Une?" Quatre was curious.  
  
Treize shook his head, sighing softly. "My personal aide and righthand… man, I suppose. She hasn't Zechs's skill with mobile suits or quite as much renown in the ranks, but has a knack for getting things done—"  
  
"In a bloody, diabolical manner that scares grown men into peeing in their pants," interjected Miri under his breath. //Like assassinating in cold blood in public locations…and coldly chasing /children/ with intent of murder!// He hadn't forgotten that Lady Une had almost shot Relena.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Treize continued, "—when all else fails. While she has some difficulty choosing the most efficient methods, one must admit that she is quite competent… Stop looking at me like that, Zechs." Yes, Treize knew him well enough to guess the scowl mostly hidden by the mask.  
  
//What am I, chopped liver? Who kicked Alliance ass on your behalf without leveling half the continent and destroying half of humanity in the process, hm? She's competent all right… Rather like using a nuclear bomb to clear your house of cockroaches.// The boy just made a face at the general again before pointedly looking away.  
  
"In any case, I sent her off to deal with Tsuberov," the dignified man finished quietly. "His toys have been approved, unfortunately."  
  
//Oh no… Those mobile doll things?// Zechs's eyes widened, and he whirled to pin a wild look on Treize. "You're kidding…" //Please tell me you are. /Please/ tell me you are. Please tell…//  
  
The rest of the table was listening in bewildered silence and wide, interested eyes.  
  
"No." Deadpan. Deadly serious.  
  
//Shit.// Miri's head dropped into his hands, almost hitting the edge of the table.  
  
"Perhaps you should explain, General Kushrenada," Rashid's quiet rumble suggested, tone recommending compliance or that other means of questioning would be invoked. "Who is Tsuberov, and what toys do you speak of?"  
  
"Lord Tsuberov is—and I hope by now, /was/—an engineer of Romefeller's," Treize continued calmly. "Recently he—"  
  
//Wait a minute—/was/?// "You set Lady Une on him?" Miri piped up abruptly, hopefully.  
  
Frowning slightly at Zechs, Treize nodded slowly. "Yes." Short, clipped, and disapproving of the interruption.  
  
//Good. For once, Lady Une's after an appropriate target that /deserves/ her worst.// Miri simply smiled until Treize looked away, and fought the urge to cheer. //Go get him, Une!//  
  
"As I was saying, recently his latest creation has been approved: mobile dolls. Essentially, Tsuberov created a type of programmable system for mobile suits—it is supposed to save the lives of soldiers by letting them control the machines from an area beyond the battle zone. Set on a type of target, they can be given a variety of strategies, and use them independently as they compute is fit until their missions are complete… In addition, I'm told, they're supposed to have faster response-times than a typical, pilot-controlled suit would…"  
  
"Oh damn," Duo breathed from across the table, looking stunned. "And here I thought a challenge would be just a bigger number of suits to face!"  
  
Quatre was staring solemnly into the center of the table, and added quietly, "What are the odds any of us can face such a weapon? And how soon will such an army be completed?"  
  
//At least they seem to realize just how bad this news is… But what /are/ we going to do? Things are likely against us as is, and this addition will /not/ help!// Miri lifted his head up a bit and contemplated his hands, bandages and all, resting on the table. //I will fight to the end, but… Well, I /was/ kind of hoping to take them—something of importance to the enemy—with me?//  
  
Treize smiled slowly, pausing briefly—and thus drawing all eyes back to him. "Actually… According to the reaction-times we have on record concerning the pilot of Gundam 01, with your suits, you should be able to hold your own against the mobile dolls. Perhaps not so many of them as piloted suits, but then, my mass of Aries pilots and suits probably wouldn't be able to do /that/ much. And to answer your question, Mister Winner, Lady Une should be moving to prevent just that—the construction of such an army."  
  
Rashid drummed the fingers of one hand on the table briefly, looking angry and a bit worn, but determined and glowering. "So, then… where are this engineer and your deadly aide currently?"  
  
"Space—the moon base, to be precise."  
  
"The colonies!!!" Duo and Quatre protested, jumping upright in their chairs.  
  
"We have to warn them—" Quatre began.  
  
"We have to go /up/ there and protect them!" Duo corrected urgently.  
  
//It's a losing battle. We're up against a multi-headed hydra and we need to stab the heart, not cut off heads…// Miri sank back in his seat, barely listening to the others argue, feeling depressed. //It's just… there are too many heads. We have to stop them up there in multiple places, and down here in multiple places… There's just not enough people to guard everything! What will we sacrifice? Something will die, no matter what… They each want to protect their colony, we want to protect /our/ places here… Sanc… Luxemburg… How do you chose where to let innocent people get slaughtered?!?//  
  
Abruptly, he murmured, "Kill the heart. This is too out of control—we have to kill the heart!"  
  
Silence answered him, making Miri glance up in surprise through long bangs that had migrated to almost obscure the glass eyeholes.  
  
//Why are they staring at me?//  
  
Treize tilted his head thoughtfully, frowning slightly at Zechs as if not certain if Zechs was thinking along the lines he thought he was, and this was not a place to ask. Duo was scratching the back of his head, pensive and frustrated. Quatre appeared worried, realistic, yet hopeful and determined to succeed—even if it meant grabbing straws. Rashid seemed gloomy and growling, but intrigued.  
  
"So we destroy Romefeller before they can put their mobile dolls to use," Rashid murmured slowly, as if tasting the idea through verbalizing it.  
  
Treize tapped a single gloved forefinger thoughtfully on the table-top, musingly, eyes narrowed at that moving digit. "That is not as simple as it sounds. Anything that bombs them to pieces, so to speak, commits public suicide. The sentiments of earth's population would turn against such a power and rend it limb from limb—ironically for killing 'innocent' politicians only interested in talking things out. You see, Romefeller has cultivated a good image for itself—false as it is."  
  
//Milliardo Peacecraft can stop them,// a little voice whispered in the back of Miri's head. //He could just walk in on one of their voting sessions and announce his blue blood, take a place—and adroitly turn Romefeller against Dermail…// It was a seductive whisper. One promising a power over others that was his by birthright, by verbal and mental gymnastics trained and bred into him from birth…  
  
//NO! Stop it! I won't do it! I'm not… I'm not… I'm not a Peacecraft anymore… I /can't/ do it… I don't even know what peace /is/ anymore! I'm a soldier, just a bloody-handed murderer. How can I preach peace with red hands?!?// Rubbing his bandaged hands over his eyes under the edge of the mask, Miri took a deep breath, trying to keep from shuddering. //I can't do it…//  
  
"None of us are politicians," Duo sighed.  
  
//I can't do it.// The words echoed in Miri's head, rebounding with failure. So many people depending on it—/humanity/ depending on someone taking the role, and he… //I can't do it. I can't be a hypocrite like that…//  
  
"I committed political suicide by joining you," Treize admitted quietly, though he certainly didn't sound like he regretted the move.  
  
//Someone else has to do this… Who? WHO?// Frustrated, the boy opened his bandaged hands and stared into the polished surface of the table, at his distorted, darkened reflection…  
  
After a moment, Quatre tried sheepishly, "I don't suppose a businessman could suffice?"  
  
"They'll eat you alive, Quatre," Duo grumbled, shaking his head. "You're too /nice/."  
  
"Relena…" It was the faintest of whispers, the dawn of an unwanted but possibly the only solution.  
  
Treize arched eyebrows, almost spearing his hairline, and whirled on Zechs as if the boy had suddenly grown a pair of wings and a flaming sword. Aristocratic blue eyes softened, apologetic and uncertain for once. "Are you sure?" the ex-Oz general whispered gently into the resounding silence, arrogant pose gone.  
  
"The Peacecraft girl?" Duo asked incredulously. "What can she do?"  
  
Quatre reached out to grab Duo's arm and with it, the braided Gundam pilot's attention. "She can move politically. Just her name carries a lot of influence," he explained quickly, hope brightening his eyes.  
  
"They'll attack her physically," Rashid rumbled with firm conviction. "She'd be dead after her first speech."  
  
Without tearing his eyes from Zechs, Treize murmured, "He's right. They would not only try to kill her—but flatten Sanc as well… They did it before."  
  
//Sanc… My people. My sister! Can I risk them all…? I need to… I need to ask her. It would be up to her. But… It's more than Sanc at stake! It's the rest of the innocent people who want peace, too! Sanc… Oh, God, Sanc in flames, again… I'm… I'm not sure I'd be able to take that again, if it happens… And Relena, if she dies…//  
  
"Is something wrong?" Duo's whisper carried across the table, though it was directed at Quatre.  
  
"It's something he has to decide," the blonde Gundam pilot returned quietly, patiently, concerned.  
  
//If Relena dies… If she dies I'll drag the lot of them into Hell /with/ me! We do it. There's no other option!//  
  
Narrowed icy eyes lifted to meet Treize's concerned ones. "If she's willing, we risk it."  
  
The older man nodded slowly, bowing his head slightly a moment in silent sympathy and gratitude—and compassion. "Then we have to go ask her. And if she agrees, protect her and the nation from Dermail's anger."  
  
"But… what can she accomplish in this?" Duo asked, seeming a bit confused.  
  
Thoughtful, Quatre mused out loud, "Promoting peace… Disarmament… If she can turn parts of Romefeller against the rest, and get the people on her side, they get knocked out of power. For that, she has to demand to be a voting part of the organization… Then we can destroy what weapons remain and they can't attack anyone… It'll be over."  
  
"You'll need me!" Zechs threw in sharply, eyes still locked on Treize's, softening to an almost pleading expression, unable to hide the hint of haunted desperation in his voice. "You'll need me—as /me/, my normal self—if nothing else, to help guard Sanc and Relena!"  
  
//That's my condition! You agree to this condition, or I won't let any of you risk my sister. I can't afford to be less than my best! There's too much at stake!!!// But he couldn't say it. He couldn't tell them, risk them… Miri couldn't reveal his real identity.  
  
Treize nodded—slightly to answer the unspoken plea, then more firmly. "We /do/ need every pilot in top shape… And I must admit you were a little slower than usual when I last saw you with Tallgeese, Zechs," he teased gently, arrogance seeping back into every word, a broad smirk touching his lips.  
  
For a long moment, Miri stared at Treize, blinking… //He's trying to cheer me up…?//  
  
"That DOES it!!!"  
  
Abruptly, a pale whirlwind of a boy launched himself out of the chair at the man three times his size in a tackle, a move he hadn't tried since he was previously this size. Of course, Zechs had outgrown such childish reactions over ten years ago…  
  
Miri never had, though.  
  
Treize was completely off-guard. He only had enough time for his eyes to widen in astonishment at the abrupt attack before he did, indeed, get slammed in the chest and flung unexpectedly sideways by 60 pounds of regressed soldier.  
  
Chairs spilled over as the pair hit the floor with a heavy thud, the general on the bottom. Protests and helpless laughter echoed back up, accompanied by the occasional shriek as one or the other managed to tickle a vulnerable spot, as Zechs proceeded to try and tickle his surprised old friend into surrender.  
  
"Ack! How dare you treat—ha hahahaha HA—your old instructor—ha EEK hahahaha—so shamefully?" Treize's voice ended on an increasingly high pitch on the last word, quite unexpected from such a dignified figure.  
  
"You know, I think he /is/ regressing," Quatre commented into the air thoughtfully as he and a bewildered Duo stared over the table at the tangled combatants.  
  
Rashid lifted an eyebrow and stood over the pair on the floor, arms folded across his chest. "Which one…?" he rumbled.  
  
"/I'll/ show you /slower/!!!"  
  
"Er… I guess this means this conference is over?" Duo hazarded.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Everyone was exhausted. No definite plans could be agreed on—that was, /after/ Rashid broke up the tickling-match. The unanimous agreement was to hit the bunks and continue hashing things out in the morning. Or, rather, sometime the /next/ morning, as it was nearly noon when they had their conference. People wanted to rest, eat, recover, heal, think, plan… Not necessarily in that order, but all required some kind of break.  
  
Not everyone could sleep when night came, however.  
  
Duo stretched, yawning as he sat up in bed. //Hmmm… Missed dinner.// His stomach rumbled, constricting in sharp reminder. //Yeah, yeah, okay, I'm going. Relax there. Just be sure you'll let me sleep again after, okay?//  
  
His stomach gurgled in what the Gundam pilot took for assent to the condition he'd set, so he stood, grabbed a few clothes and a robe, and shucked them on as he padded off to the kitchen Quatre had unwisely introduced him to the night before… and the coffee machine there.  
  
//Coffee… I'd like that a lot. Then I want a good look about the hangers—I expect nobody'll be around, and I want to see what Treize's got with him and what their typical suits have. I don't think they'd trust me in there otherwise… and I'd sleep a lot better if I knew there was no wildly-new technology hidden from us new allies!//  
  
But he heard voices as he drew near the kitchen. Familiar ones.  
  
//Hmmm… They're up too? Surely they aren't conspiring… Zechs is, I think, rather firmly disillusioned with Oz. Though if they're old friends…? I wonder…// Staying in the shadows to one side of the door, he listened quietly.  
  
Silence met Duo's surveillance.  
  
//Oh come-on! Don't clam up right /now/!//  
  
"You've changed, Milliardo…" A quiet observation, almost gentle.  
  
"Treize…" Almost a plea. "Not that name. Please."  
  
"Why not? You're free now," Treize replied quietly, interested. "You aren't even wearing the mask."  
  
"I'd hardly be recognizable like this, Treize," Zechs responded dryly. "But… No, I'm not free yet."  
  
"Is it because of the fighting… or your sister?"  
  
Zechs remained quiet, refusing to answer.  
  
A soft sigh from Treize. "You'll have to face her, you know. You are our only tie to ending this war through Sanc…"  
  
"NO!" Denial filled that shout. Then, quieter, shaken, "Noin would help us… We can contact through her…"  
  
"She won't listen to any pleas from me, Zechs." Treize was certain about that point. "She will know about you eventually… I am surprised Noin hasn't told her yet."  
  
A slight growl. "Noin wouldn't betray me like that. She knows…"  
  
"She knows you too well, yes, I've fathomed as much." Treize paused a moment, and Duo could hear the man's finger tapping again. "You can't hide forever, though. Your sister deserves to meet you at least once in person."  
  
A long silence…  
  
"Though perhaps not as a child," Treize added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
"Treize…" Zechs growled warningly… an amusing sound to hear from a boy of seven.  
  
"I'm glad to see some things about you haven't changed, my friend," Treize chuckled, clothes rustling as he shifted in his seat.  
  
"Treize…!"  
  
"Just what exactly /did/ they do to you? Other than the height thing," Treize added lightheartedly.  
  
Stony silence followed for a long moment. One could feel the mood between the pair changing to an almost despairing one.  
  
Finally, "Go away, Treize…" Toneless.  
  
"Zechs…" Treize's voice was full of concern.  
  
"Treize… just go away… Please." Painful.  
  
Another long pause, in which Treize's chair scraped the floor.  
  
Then, "I'm sorry, Milliardo…" A deep, full-hearted and sincere apology, full of understanding.  
  
"Just go, please!" Zechs's voice hit a breaking, begging note.  
  
Duo winced. //His memories. Treize brought back the worst ones… Just leave him alone, Treize, please?//  
  
Treize strode out without another sound, and paused in the darkness just outside the kitchen, taking a deep breath. The man seemed concerned still, at least what Duo could tell of his slightly-slouched stance in the dim moonlight of the corridor.  
  
Duo's belly decided to mutter a quiet but vocal complaint at that moment about the delay.  
  
In the shadows, Duo could almost feel the older man frown… then glance his way. "Duo Maxwell… If I might borrow you for a moment…" supplied a cultured whisper.  
  
Duo glanced back towards the kitchen, then winced as he heard something shatter against the wall. //Okay, skip the coffee for now. Go with the nice man and let Zechs have some peace to get his dignity back in… You know how he'd react to a hug, after all—probably by kneeing you in the crotch?// "Ah… sure. Let's go that way…" The braided pilot kept his voice down and prayed Zechs wouldn't hear—and throw something through the doorway.  
  
Leading the older man down one of the various unexplored corridors, Duo sank his hands into his robe's pockets. "So… How'd you guess it was me standing right there? Stomach gave me away, right?"  
  
"Actually, more the clothing. Few wear black in the desert." Treize chuckled faintly, but his heart didn't seem to be in it.  
  
They walked in silence for a bit, though Duo had to lengthen his strides slightly to keep pace beside the man. //I wonder what he wants to talk about… Zechs, perhaps?//  
  
"He's changed, and it worries me," Treize admitted finally. "I have known him since… before his family died. We've grown up together. What has happened—what /is/ happening—is destroying him."  
  
//That's getting rather obvious.// "I know," Duo murmured. //But how much do I tell this guy? And they knew each other that long, huh? I wonder how much I can get him to tell /me/! Zechs keeps too many secrets.//  
  
"I need to know what happened to him when he was captured."  
  
//Now we're getting to the point… But what makes you think /you/ can understand best what's going on in that kid's head right now?// But Duo decided to be truthful—if not detailed. "We pretty much figured it all out… Just take your worst nightmare and stamp it with 'True'."  
  
Treize's strides froze, making Duo pace a couple steps ahead before he realized what happened. "That bad?" Treize sounded like someone had socked him in the midriff.  
  
Duo frowned at the man, and put his hands on his hips. //I want you to know the full impact—if Zechs was your friend, you'd /better/ feel guilty for not looking for him sooner! And maybe if you're feeling guilty, you'll be less of a pompous bag around the rest of us, hmmm?// Coldly, he answered, "They tortured him. Some had their fun. Then they changed him—and now he can't distance /anything/ he remembers."  
  
Was it Duo's imagination, or did Treize actually wince and seem a lot paler right now? He sounded ill, and murmured something in a foreign language under his breath before asking, "I /am/ sorry, then… If only I'd known… No, it wouldn't have changed matters—I moved as fast as I could. He… He told you this?" The man was no longer the least bit arrogant—in fact, quite concerned and hesitant.  
  
Shaking his head, Duo relaxed. "No… We had a local doctor look him over when he arrived—the doctor told us most of it. The rest we pieced together from his reactions to things and a disc full of research he managed to bring here with him from that… place." Duo's teeth ground the last. //I want to level that place /so/ badly right now…//  
  
Treize stood in silence, visibly shaken at the idea.  
  
Duo blinked at the older man's reaction, then nodded slightly to himself. //That's right… Zechs said Treize was likely their next target for imprisoning… Possibly in the same place. You were lucky, Treize… lucky that he's your friend, too.//  
  
Footsteps interrupted the pair, echoing down the corridor.  
  
//Who? Sounds urgent…// Duo turned towards the sound and stepped past the ex-Oz general to confront it. //Let Treize get his dignity back. I can handle things… with a gun or Gundam, if necessary!//  
  
"Master—Master Duo? Are you…?" Abdul's voice!  
  
"Yeah, Abdul, I'm here. Wandering in search of something to eat, you know?" On cue, Duo's belly growled. //Shut-up, you! This may be more important!// "What's up?"  
  
"We've a transport plane coming in—nobody else's awake and I was just on my way to find Master Quatre and Rashid! They're saying they need fuel and are on their way to Congo Base…"  
  
//Who are they? Treize's support troops?// Duo frowned. Something wasn't right. As far as he knew, nobody contacted anyone about /anything/ since the battle!  
  
"…and they say they're transporting a mobile suit on the orders of a Colonel Zechs Merquise!" Abdul finished, anxious.  
  
"Zechs couldn't—and /wouldn't/—give any such order—the Tallgeese is /here/!" Treize exclaimed in the shadows.  
  
Abdul jumped a good foot and muttered something sharp and scathing that Duo didn't recognize. "Yeesh! Give a man some warning, General!"  
  
"He's right—whoever they are, they're lying…" Duo glared into the shadows and beyond them, thinking hard. //Who could it be… And /why/? They can't be Oz… And definitely not one of this new alliance…//  
  
"The Alliance—and Romefeller—don't know a base exists here. Only the former Alliance general who we so recently put to rest even guessed this establishment exists," murmured the older man in the shadows, as Treize calculated a few things out loud.  
  
//Then it's not them, which leaves…// "Heero! I bet you its Heero! Ask for Trowa and have them land, Abdul! I bet you by Deathscythe that it's the pair of them in a stolen plane—they probably saw Treize's suits on the sand outside and decided to play it safe!"  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
To be continued.  
  
Oh, side note for Maria Kushrenada, who asked about the white stripes. No White Fang exists in this yet, and I imagined more along the lines of racing stripes on a car. Besides, White Fang used kerchiefs as armbands (left arm only) to mark themselves—they didn't paint stripes on their suits. And Treize had to distinguish friend from foe somehow in this tale. Only logical to use some spare paint to mark your own (and white /is/ the Tallgeese's color). Lady Une will play more of a factor later… especially when Treize calls her up for a report… ;)  
  
As for why Zechs jumps sometimes and not others—he jumps when unexpectedly touched. You /have/ to expect retaliation in a tickle-fight!  
  
I'll explain in the next chapter why it takes these guys over 5 hours to get anywhere when in reality, 5+ hours sends you pretty much halfway across the world. 


	14. How Can I Even Try To Explain

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Fourteen: How Can I Even Try To Explain…  
  
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Disclaimer—Dis I don't claim. Good definition, huh? No, really, I don't own Gundam Wing. But I can dream, can't I? The cacti died. Sorry, can't get those out of me anymore, either. Note to self—never plant cacti in normal soil again…  
  
Warnings—Some banged shins… You know, I don't think anything that terrible happens in this chapter.  
  
The new allies meet Heero and Trowa. Of course, conflicts arise. This new alliance is hardly a match made in heaven…  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
Zechs glared at the coffee before him as if it had threatened to eat through the hull of the Tallgeese. The previous cup wasn't agreeing with his stomach, and he had a hunch that this one wouldn't make things any better for his gut linings, but it beat going back to sleep at the moment.  
  
//I haven't had nightmares like this since my first fight…// he mused dispiritedly. //No, I amend that: these are the worst yet. I don't… I don't want to remember… Don't they have something stronger here? I'd try something stronger gladly—though, on second thought, I don't think my body would take that any better than this coffee.//  
  
Pained, icy eyes shifted to a pile of ceramic, coffee-stained shards in a pile by the sink. A flicker of shame touched his soul at the sight. //I wish Treize hadn't asked. I… I don't want him to know, too. What happened… Too much has happened. He'd feel guilty about it, too. I…//  
  
Pausing, he let his head sink into his bandaged hands, nose over the coffee, gazing at his reflection in the murky liquid.  
  
//I just want to forget.//  
  
Miri sighed softly. "I want to forget too many things… And nothing will allow me to do that," he whispered.  
  
Of course, the coffee didn't answer, though his breath stirred faint ripples in the liquid, sloshing the sides of his new mug.  
  
//Damn coffee. Can't I just blame you? Then I can solve all my problems by blowing up every sludge-factory on Earth and pat myself on the back for saving people from the unhealthy addiction.// A wry smile tugged at his lips. //Things would be /so/ much easier…//  
  
His reflection steadied on the surface, staring back at him in solemn sadness. A boy. Milliardo? The soldier only existed in those too-old eyes. He didn't have to be a stranger to notice it.  
  
Another soft sigh shattered the image, giving a faint respite from that intense gaze. //The man in the mirror… Or should I say child? I am not who I used to be. I've lost my calm, my assurance...// Memory of the shards by the sink bit in. //My control. I'm not… not /quite/ Zechs anymore. But I've still killed. This isn't right. I'm losing the boundaries I set up. Just like I'm losing the mask… I have to ask one of the Maganacs to fix it—the left eye's too shattered to see through now.//  
  
Again, his image steadied on the coffee before him. Persistent bugger.  
  
//It will break soon. The mask can't last much longer.//  
  
Lifting his head, he wrapped his hands about the mug.  
  
//Will I shatter with it?//  
  
The image in the mug appeared disheartened, lost… a drowned figure. A lost child. It seemed fitting, somehow.  
  
//And if I don't, what then?//  
  
"You know, that stuff stunts your growth."  
  
Miri smiled slowly into the mug, not looking up. "I can spare it."  
  
"Yeah, well, don't say I didn't warn you," Duo chuckled, his footsteps echoing closer, towards the coffee machine. Zechs could hear the Gundam pilot pause at the sight of the broken mug piled neatly nearby, then the clank and whisper of a fresh mug being filled.  
  
Miri's gaze stayed on the dark liquid already in his hands. "So, what is the commotion? It can't be too urgent, if you've returned here." //I may be smaller, but my hearing is still very good.//  
  
A yawn, a stretch—joints creaked. "Oh, Heero and Trowa have arrived. A bit of a mix-up. I wanted a mugful before going out to reassure—or greet—them. By the time I've finished this, Quatre's likely told them the basics of what happened the past few days…"  
  
A half-giggle, half-chuckle escaped. //Very good tactical move, Duo.// "So you escape having to do a lot of explaining."  
  
Duo slowly strode around the table to the side opposite Zechs, grinning broadly as the ex-Oz pilot looked up. "Yeah, well…" Shrugging, he couldn't hide his impish expression. "Quatre's the better diplomat. Want to come?"  
  
Miri hesitated, torn. //I've met Heero before—though that was through visuals during the fight. Do I…? I mean… Hell, it's /embarrassing/ to be a kid!// "I… don't know."  
  
Deathscythe's pilot snorted, smirking slightly, eyes wicked. "Well, the two of you can hardly do your duel now. I'd think even Heero would have trouble putting the notion of you as a kid aside when he fights."  
  
A sigh disturbed the surface of the coffee again. //True. And… I'm not sure I'm /not/ a kid. All of this is just… too overwhelming. I can't figure any of it out—I can't figure /myself/ out!// Resigned, he shoved his seat back. //I honestly don't care to continue puzzling it over anymore. Easier to just live with the present and let the rest sort itself out.// "I'll come."  
  
Duo grinned broadly, eyes dancing with mischief. "It'll certainly be something to see their reactions…"  
  
//I bet.// Miri smiled slowly, mischief stirring within his blood as well at the notion. //May as well enjoy it, hm?// "That's true…" he offered.  
  
As Duo turned to lead the way back into the hall with coffee mug in hand, he paused and eyed Zechs warily, adding, "You left the BBgun back in the room and you've no fireworks on you, right?"  
  
A sly smile touched the boy's lips, icy eyes gleaming. //I don't need such weapons, though… The Academy /did/ train us pretty well!// "Yes."  
  
Frowning slightly, Duo considered that answer, and Zechs's expression, then shook his head so that his braid flopped on his shoulders. "Never mind… But no trying to kill Heero, got that?" he admonished sternly, leading the way.  
  
"But Duuuoooo…" Miri mock-whined, following him.  
  
Their laughter preceded down the corridors softly before them.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Quatre's voice echoed down the corridor ahead of the party, continuing in a slightly-worried tone, "…So Treize Kushrenada has joined us. I must admit, we rather needed the help when he arrived, too. While he isn't exactly who I'd choose to ally with, the situation is so bad that I can't see how we have much choice. Apart, we will end up only fouling each other up…"  
  
A quiet but deep voice filled the space left by that pause, as footsteps gave their voices a drumbeat to move to. "Has he given you any sort of reassurances concerning his reliability in this? Other than bringing a small army with him?"  
  
"Actually, Trowa, I'm rather glad you mention that." Quatre seemed cheered by this question. "You see, he seems to be leaving all the decisions up to us on this. My feeling is that he's sincere about his wish to help us, though he is a bit reluctant to lead it. He's quite willing to follow… I'm not sure why, though. Personal reasons, I suspect."  
  
"Hn," a quiet grunt from an indeterminate source was the only answer.  
  
Duo turned the corner and flashed a big grin at the approaching group. Heero, in a stolen blue Oz recruit's uniform, was trailing a little behind the taller Trowa, who was likewise dressed, and the hopefully-cheerful Quatre, dragged out of bed in only soft teal pajamas and a robe. Rashid loomed behind Heero like a small dark mountain, another Maganac lost in his shadow. Quatre had a lantern in hand to light the way, and almost jumped when Duo's black clothes appeared before him like a human-shaped doorway.  
  
//Heh. Heero and Trowa look like sullen-faced twins in that getup. Doesn't either one of them ever /smile/? Doesn't look like Quatre's reassuring them too much…//  
  
"Hey there, look what finally decided to join the party!" Duo called brightly, watching Quatre wince at the sheer cheerfulness in his voice. //Ooops! Sorry, Quatre, but hey, give me a mug of coffee and I'm happy as a bluebird, regardless of time of day!// "What took you so long, Heero?"  
  
Wing's pilot eyed Duo sharply, but answered calmly, "Backtracking to lose the tails Romefeller kept sending after us after every stop."  
  
"It seems the name 'Zechs Merquise' triggers everyone in the vicinity to follow you," Trowa murmured sarcastically, glancing at Heero.  
  
Heero snorted at Trowa's words, ignoring the glare. "It made them ignore the fact that we had a Gundam on board," he answered blandly.  
  
Duo fought the urge to roll his eyes and chuckle. //Little do they know... And this is neat—Heero actually slipped up on something! Shouldn't have used Zechs's name, Heero—they want him dead!// "Yeah, well, Romefeller has this grudge against Zechs these days…"  
  
"He's here," Heero stated flatly, glancing at Quatre.  
  
//Yeah, Quatre would have told them…// When Duo glanced at the blonde Gundam pilot, Quatre shrugged helplessly. Duo reached up and scratched the back of his head, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. //How to explain this…// "Okay, where to begin…"  
  
Something tugged at the tail of Duo's shirt. "Seeing is probably easier than explaining," Zechs's voice murmured a bit uncertainly behind him.  
  
Mentally, Duo sighed. //True, a picture's worth a thousand words, but this essay we have to get across is a lot longer!// Peering over his shoulder at the shy boy, he smiled wryly and shrugged. "Guess it's somewhere to start," he told the pale form hiding in his shadow.  
  
"So where is he?" Trowa asked, curious.  
  
"Right here." Zechs stepped around Duo, blinking under the shade of long pale bangs as he peered up at the Gundam pilots boldly.  
  
Trowa blinked. "You're kidding," he stated disbelievingly, green eyes wide.  
  
Heero… frowned, head slowly traveling downward to fix his eyes with the icy ones below him.  
  
//Okay… I think I kind of expected this.// "It's a long story," Duo tried, feeling a little sheepish.  
  
Zechs and Heero merely stared at each other, the former frowning slowly as time ticked past with neither blinking an eye.  
  
Trowa watched the pair, eyebrows slipping towards his hairline.  
  
Duo exchanged looks with Quatre, uncertain. //Is this a good thing? I've a feeling it isn't…// Quatre only gave him another wide-eyed shrug of helplessness.  
  
Someone chuckled a little, a smothered sound.  
  
//I can feel someone drawing question-marks over my head,// Duo thought, looking at the two Maganacs…  
  
Who were smirking.  
  
Looking back at Heero and Zechs, neither had blinked yet, but both continued to frown at each other.  
  
//Okay, this is getting creepy…//  
  
Then Trowa burst out laughing so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks.  
  
"It's not funny," Zechs insisted, tearing his gaze from Heero to shoot a narrow-eyed glare at the tall Gundam pilot.  
  
Heero actually… smiled slightly. "You're… different from last time."  
  
//Well duh!// Duo rolled his eyes at Heero and looked at Trowa wonderingly. // But hey, it seems Heero /can/ smile. And Trowa, too.//  
  
Quatre was staring at Trowa as if the Heavyarms' pilot had gone insane. For good reason—Trowa's bellowing laughter was driving tears down his face, and he was clutching his sides as if to keep them from falling off. The poor fellow looked ready to fall over, he was having such a hard time catching his breath. And poor Quatre's bewildered expression begged everyone, "What do I do about /this/?"  
  
Zechs eyed Heero sharply, clearly on the defensive. "Do I look like I'm /enjoying/ this?"  
  
Heero just ignored his question and dropped a question of his own. "Romefeller?"  
  
"No, the tooth fairy! Who else do you think?" Duo chuckled. //Now now, Heero, stop teasing your old nemesis. Not nice. Play fair.// "Come on, give the guy a break—they were pretty nasty. He's helping us…"  
  
Trowa just laughed helplessly, rocking dangerously on his feet.  
  
"Hey, I can still pilot the Tallgeese!" Zechs snapped threateningly, fists on hips.  
  
Heero just shook his head, smiling a bit more broadly.  
  
Spreading his hands, Duo tried, "He did—honest! He's going to help us protect Relena while she politically overthrows Romefeller…" //Stop laughing, Trowa, you're NOT helping!// Duo attempted to give Trowa a stern look, but the fellow wasn't even looking at him—only staring at Heero and Zechs as if they were the latest in comedy teams.  
  
"The pacifier?" Heero asked, startled, looking to Duo curiously.  
  
"PaciFIST!" Zechs's hands weren't the only parts of him with fast reflexes.  
  
Duo didn't have time to blink before Heero doubled over with an involuntary yelp of surprise as his shins were kicked in quick succession.  
  
Then Duo started laughing. //Sorry, Zechs—but you look too funny!// Quatre tried to cover a giggle—and Trowa leaned on the blonde Gundam pilot, wheezing with laughter.  
  
"Ow! I meant to say pacifist," Heero protested mildly, still surprised as he rubbed new bruises.  
  
Zechs glared at the lot of them, fists on hips, not looking very convinced. At the moment, Duo was glad the boy didn't have any weaponry—or mugs—handy. He looked ready to bestow pain on the amused members of the party out of sheer frustration.  
  
Taking a deep breath to calm down, Trowa added, smirking, "Take it easy—Heero's still injured."  
  
"Thank you," Wing's pilot muttered with sarcastic dignity.  
  
Shaking his head, Duo grinned broadly as he heard Zechs snort. //He's pretty defensive of that Darlain girl, Heero—watch out…//  
  
"What Duo was saying," Quatre began, smiling as he still supported Trowa, "is that we're going to ask her to try and gather the support of the people and turn Romefeller towards peace… So we can destroy the weapons. The leader of the dangerous faction is Duke Dermail, really, not the rest of Romefeller."  
  
"So we go to Sanc, then?" Heero inquired, straightening as he looked to Quatre. "Who will ask her?"  
  
Nobody answered.  
  
Wing's pilot groaned faintly, closing his eyes.  
  
"I don't think we decided yet," Quatre offered sheepishly, smiling slowly at Heero's obvious discomfort.  
  
//Poor Heero…// Duo didn't feel very sorry for him, though. "Hey, she was stalking /you/, not us. She'll listen to you more," he suggested slyly.  
  
Trowa smothered a chuckle and shrugged, eyeing Heero mischievously.  
  
Heero's eyes flicked from one person to another warily. "Mission denied," he stated firmly.  
  
//Trying to slip past this one, huh, Heero? We'll see about that.// "Hey, man, we need her—she's perfect for the job."  
  
"Mission denied."  
  
"Heero, she's the best one we can think of who might even listen to us—none of us are politicians or have as much influence!" Quatre protested.  
  
"Mission denied."  
  
Trowa, still smiling faintly, wondered bluntly, "What's so bad about her?"  
  
An eyebrow quirked at Trowa. "Ever see a pink limo?" the Perfect Soldier countered.  
  
All the Gundam boys winced. //I forgot about that,// Duo mused, amused. //Come on, Heero, I know you're 90% bluster. You haven't killed her yet, for all she gets in your way.//  
  
"Come on, Heero, you're our best bet," Duo begged.  
  
"That is not why I came here," came the cold reply.  
  
"We have your Gundam," Zechs continued smoothly, almost angrily, folding his arms across his chest as he studied Heero.  
  
//Huh—almost forgot he was still here. But he's right.// Duo made a face. "We're not trying to bribe you, though. But it'd be nice if you talked to her, to return the favor."  
  
Heero's eyes widened slightly, whirling on the pair. "How…?"  
  
//Okay, guess he did NOT know.// "Zechs brought it." Duo waved a hand at the boy.  
  
Heero's icy gaze shifted to the longhaired blonde youth, waiting…  
  
And met equally cool eyes. "I had my men put most of it back together. We have yet to finish our duel."  
  
The rival pair gazed at each other warily, gazes unblinking…  
  
//Not /again/…// "Just talk to her, Heero. /Once./ That's all we're asking."  
  
"No." Zechs interceded abruptly, arms still folded across his chest, bandaged fingers tapping one arm.  
  
//What?!?// Duo blinked, incredulous.  
  
Quatre tiled his head. "No?" Confused.  
  
"I thought that was the plan," Rashid rumbled quietly in the shadows, not sounding very pleased by the suggestion of changes that left him out.  
  
"Take her a letter," Zechs offered, not taking his eyes off Heero.  
  
//A letter? From who?// "Wouldn't it be better if we ask in person?" Duo tried, lost.  
  
"A letter," Heero mused, considering the short Tallgeese pilot with wary appraisal, as if expecting a trick in this proposal.  
  
"A letter from who?" Trowa asked, puzzled. "If she's not likely to listen to this alliance, a letter won't change things."  
  
Was it Duo's impression, or did Zechs seem embarrassed and ashamed when he dipped his head to look at the floor? But he didn't imagine the words that followed.  
  
"I know someone she will listen to…"  
  
"What?" Quatre gasped.  
  
"You've been keeping this from us?" thundered Rashid.  
  
//Why didn't you say anything before?// Duo wondered, feeling hurt, certain that the others were thinking the same thing.  
  
"He can't meet her." A quiet, sad statement, but the tone was firmly certain about that fact.  
  
Heero connected things first, and his wary expression faded to something faintly resembling gentle acceptance. "You," he stated softly, Prussian blue eyes questioning.  
  
A silvery-blonde head bobbed slightly in response.  
  
//Zechs… So you know her… But how?// Sympathy stirred, and Duo resisted the urge to pat the boy's shoulder reassuringly. //He seems so saddened—and so sure he can't meet her. Why? I don't see why not. I wonder what their connection is… Wish you'd talk more, kiddo.//  
  
"Mission accepted." An understanding agreement.  
  
Zechs looked up at Heero, icy eyes damp, but they continued to hold his pain within. "Thank you," he answered softly.  
  
Rashid sighed quietly, the only sound in the resulting silence. //Well, this changes a couple small plans of his, I guess,// Duo mused, amused and pleased.  
  
Then…  
  
"Can you also put something in it to pacify /her/ so I can complete my missions /without/ her getting underfoot?" Heero added plaintively, smiling weakly.  
  
Zechs's mouth twitched into a lopsided smile. "I can only try…"  
  
"And the pink limo, too?" Duo wondered hopefully, eyes lighting up. //Hey, if he can stop her stalking…!//  
  
A pale eyebrow jumped at Duo's suggestion. "I'm not her chauffer, Duo. There's only so much I can ask of her."  
  
"Duo has a point. He can do something about that, if you can somehow pacify her reaction," Heero mused, a slight smile on his lips, eyes actually dancing with mischief.  
  
//Is he /asking/ for trouble?// Duo wondered, amazed.  
  
Zechs lashed out with a foot, protesting, "Do I /seem/ like a pacifier to you?!?"  
  
"Ow! Ow! Bad leg! Bad leg!" But Heero couldn't withhold his chuckles as he was kicked.  
  
"I. Am. Not. A. Pacifier!!!"  
  
Heero was still laughing as he fell down.  
  
Duo smirked, turning to find Trowa cracking up all over poor giggling Quatre again as the Maganacs roared, and shrugged expressively. //Well, who /would/ like those references to their age if they were in Zechs's place?//  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---  
  
To be continued.  
  
And so they /kinda/ get along. Yes, I think Heero actually has a sense of humor, even if it means the result of teasing gets him extra bruises on his shins… 


	15. It's Some Phase He's Going Through

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Fifteen: It's Some Phase He's Going Through…  
  
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Disclaimer—I own nothing; nothing, I tell you, hahahahahahah!  
  
Warnings—Let's see now… Lady Une. Yes, I think she warrants some warning. Confusion and mild chaos and laughter at the expense of others, with potentially bruised shins. That constitutes as mental abuse and mild violence, right?  
  
The gang decides to see what Lady Une was able to accomplish, and warn Noin before heading for Sanc. Looks like there's good reason to warn poor Noin just what she's in for, too…  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
//I've kicked Heero Yuy's shins and lived to tell about it,// Miri mused with a slight smirk as he cradled a cupful of coffee, leaning against the rail as he watched the Tallgeese undergo repairs. //That's more than I was expecting, to be honest.//  
  
A lightly-bandaged hand lifted to scratch where one feathery end of his bangs was tickling his cheek, and he tilted his head as he gazed up at the white beast.  
  
//Does that mean I won our staring contest?//  
  
"Hey, Zechs!" A voice below drew his attention, and he wrenched his gaze down in time to register something sailing up through the air in his direction from the floor below.  
  
Instinctively, the hand abandoned his bangs and darted out to catch the object as it reached the peak of its trajectory, plucking it out of the air. Heavy, hard, metallic…  
  
//The mask.// Lifting it up slightly, he smiled wryly into the glassy eyeholes. Somehow, the cracks had been drawn back together until they became mere thin seams, and the shattered left eyeglass had been replaced entirely. From a distance, nobody would guess it was still damaged. //Not a bad patch-job. But then, we hardly have time for me to ask someone to make another of these damn things. As if I want another one… I don't /like/ wearing it, but I must.//  
  
Standing on tip-toes to peer over the rail, he flashed Abdul a light smile. "Thanks Abdul! At least now I don't have to worry about it falling apart when I put it down!" he called to the man below.  
  
The Maganac grinned broadly back up at him, and waves a hand airily. "Hey, I'd replace the rest of the broken parts, but that thing's put together like a puzzle, and it'd take two days to cut the parts right. Sorry we don't have time like that right now…"  
  
//This is good enough.// Zechs gestured at the Tallgeese with the mask, agreeing, "That's all right. Better if you put more time in fixing the museum display than this. It's not mean to last forever, after all!"  
  
From the direction of the Tallgeese's cockpit, Auada's voice called out, "If it's not meant to last forever, why the heck did you want it fixed?"  
  
Abdul chuckled, shaking his head. "You talking about the museum piece or the mask, Auada?" he laughed mischievously.  
  
"Both!" the man working on the cockpit flung back.  
  
Miri shook his head, smiling gently as he took a sip of his coffee… and not volunteering anything further. //I miss Meiser… and Walker… and Otto…// He sighed softly, sadly. //Stop making yourself melancholy, Miri…//  
  
Abdul was still looking up at him expectantly.  
  
"What?" the boy asked, arching a pale eyebrow at that intent stare. //Do I have a coffee moustache or something?//  
  
"Well, why /do/ you wear that thing?" the Maganac countered, grinning still. "It can't be a bold fashion statement, after all. And obviously it's not as good as a crash helmet…"  
  
//Why do I…?// Zechs tilted the mask so that it looked back at him. //I doubt they'll accept the excuse of "Habit, mostly".//  
  
"While we're at it, I'd like to know, too," a familiar voice added from his left.  
  
"Duo," Miri acknowledged, without turning to look. //He's very quiet when he walks…//  
  
"So…?" They were waiting.  
  
//And acknowledge that I'm ashamed to be fighting? Not willingly, no.// He blinked at his reflection in the smooth metallic surface. "You could have asked Treize that earlier… I didn't make it," Miri pointed out gruffly.  
  
A bark of a laugh from Duo. "Talking to Treize is like trying to catch hummingbirds with a mobile suit—he's damnably evasive and likes to make you fly in circles!"  
  
//True. He plays verbal and mental games. But I can play them, too, when I feel the need to.// Straightening, he tucked the mask under his free arm, and turned to go. "It's part of what makes Zechs Merquise," he offered obtusely.  
  
At the end of the service balcony, though, as he reached for the ladder, he added quietly, almost under his breath, "…and spares others from being hurt."  
  
Leaving them to puzzle that out, he sipped the last of his coffee as he walked back towards the kitchen. But his mind was wandering different trails, not registering his surroundings anymore. All he saw was a young girl with honey-blonde hair, gazing at him in a sort of innocent confusion and calm expectation as a man in battle fatigues fled behind her.  
  
//It's best that she doesn't know what I've become… But what will I write to her?//  
  
Miri had promised the letter only to get Heero's presence in Sanc, and hopefully raise their chances of success. But in doing so, he had set up a dilemma for himself…  
  
//What the heck do I /say/ to her? "By the way, this is the brother you never knew you had and can you do me a small favor on behalf of saving the whole world from annihilation?"//  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Conferences were held. Just how much the unlikely allies managed to produce from them, however, was debatable. Quite a few exchanges of verbal sniper-fire, bellows of outrage, threats to dismantle various mobile suits, and bruised shins later, they managed to agree to a few things. Among them, contact Miss Noin off in Sanc and get an update from Lady Une on her extermination progress. Meanwhile, Rashid had taken on the responsibility of repairing and upgrading all the suits available—which, when you counted Treize's small army, constituted as a massive undertaking, though the Gundams and Tallgeese had priority on the list. Treize seemed intent on demoting himself to squadron leader of his small army and leaving the leadership to everyone else… and was taking some persuading to use his influence on others throughout the old Oz organization to try a little spying and terrorism on this new alliance's behalf.  
  
Duo couldn't help but find it amusing, though.  
  
"Oh for heaven's sake, Treize, we're not asking for the Moon Base here!" Zechs sighed, nearly jumping up and down in place with frustration. Duo could see the boy's hands clenching until they were as pale as his hair. "Just /contact/ them and ask them to pass information to wherever Heero's willing to collect it all."  
  
"The main computer system for Romefeller should be sufficient," Wing's pilot added, seeming a bit tired of this.  
  
The dignified man looked harried. Well, he /was/! Neat hair had strands straying, and wrinkles were starting to threaten the man's pristine blue attire. //About time,// Duo giggled to himself. //Welcome to the human level, General. Not that I've much sympathy for you… yet.// Still, the poor man looked like he was being backed into a corner. //It's not /that/ much we're asking for here—yeesh!//  
  
"Please?" Quatre tried plaintively, eyes begging that this would finally be settled once and for all and preferably in their favor.  
  
Treize sighed and brushed an errant hair out of his eye. "I have no wish to explain this, so please try to understand…" Ever calm, cool, and poised? No. For once the strain from their pressure had obviously cracked that exterior, though he tried to cling to it still.  
  
Duo rolled his eyes and fought the urge to giggle. Each reacted in their own way—and it was amusing to watch. Quatre lowered his head into his hands with a groan. Trowa just closed his eyes. Heero leaned back in his chair and appeared to settle down to sleep—as if he thought this argument would go well into the night. Zechs sighed again, running a hand through his hair to get his bangs out of his face. //Looks like we'll be here a long time, guys… This nut's been a long time hardening.//  
  
Finally, Zechs turned to Treize and stated, "You and I need to talk, then…"  
  
Treize shook his head firmly. "I think all that could be said, has been, Zechs."  
  
Blinking, Duo frowned. //He's pretty set. But that's the first time he's turned Zechs down like this.//  
  
"Please."  
  
The older man sighed quietly, eyes flicking shut a moment… then nodded, getting to his feet. "Fine. Five minutes. But I'm not about to change my mind."  
  
In answer, the boy nodded and gestured for the General to precede him into the washroom.  
  
//Okay, Zechs, that's a /strange/ choice of rooms for side-conferences,// Duo decided, blinking dazedly. The other Gundam pilots showed no reaction—in fact, Quatre didn't bother to lift his head, and Heero seemed to be dozing off!  
  
The door shut behind the pair of ex-Oz officers with a soft click.  
  
//Well, /I/ want to know what they have to say.// Scooping up his glass of water, Duo drained it dry, shook the last drop out, then stood and carefully put it against the door. //I hope this works…//  
  
Heero's eyes cracked open and flicked his way.  
  
//Oh, come on, Heero. Stop glaring at me like that. It's not like either of these two gives me actual /answers/!// Deathscythe's pilot made a face and mouthed "What?" at Wing's pilot.  
  
Heero just rolled his eyes and closed them again.  
  
Wrinkling his nose back at his fellow Gundam pilot, Duo set his ear to the glass and listened closely.  
  
A hiss covered the background. Water, perhaps? It made things very difficult to catch. But Duo was an old snooper before, so his ears were very, very good. //Nice try, Zechs. But not good enough.//  
  
"Perhaps you can guess why I do not want a prominent role in this," Treize murmured.  
  
"Perhaps…" came the quiet reply, agreeing.  
  
"Then don't ask it of me, Zechs."  
  
"We have to. We need all the help we can get. I wouldn't ask if…" Zechs trailed to a halt, hesitating.  
  
Treize seemed intent on getting the younger man to say it. "If…?"  
  
"If it weren't so important."  
  
"To you."  
  
Anger flared. "Not just me!"  
  
A pause, then, "Forgive me. That was cruel of me to say."  
  
"You know me better, Treize. I know he is your kin, but the man has to be stopped…"  
  
Duo blinked. //Treize is related to Duke Dermail? Huh!//  
  
A quiet whisper of sound that Duo almost missed: "But not by me."  
  
"No," Zechs conceded, agreeing. "Not by you, if we can help it. But with more information, we can keep you farther out of it…"  
  
"Still, that means I helped. I really… don't wish to. Do you understand, Milliardo? You know how family loyalty is rooted in us from childhood… It drives you just as hard."  
  
Duo frowned. //That name again. He often calls Zechs by his real name. I wish he gave a last name with that, though. Maybe then I could find the information neither of these two are willing to give me!//  
  
A long pause. "I understand. But I still have to demand this much help out of you." Gentle, but sad.  
  
"Because of what he did to you?"  
  
Painful agreement followed. "Because of what he did to me. Because he had no qualms about doing it to you later. Because of what he did long ago as well… He ordered my family's death back then, didn't he, Treize." It wasn't a question, only seeking confirmation.  
  
A long silence. Treize didn't seem to want to answer that question.  
  
"I've had time to think… though it's not so easy when the rain is beating a drumbeat on your head and you're hanging by your wrists at the time." A wryness to those words. "He knew too much. And you are right—blood ties are very strong. Your ties to him kept me alive this long—but his ties to you mean you must have known all along."  
  
//Treize said that they go way back—so it was Treize's friendship that's kept Dermail from killing Zechs? Then how come Zechs's whole family was killed by the guy? Doesn't the influence extend that far?// Duo fought the urge to scratch his ear, feeling confused. //Explains the kid's determination to fight, though—if Dermail's behind both his unhappy prison stay and his family's annihilation!//  
  
"I can't condemn my own granduncle to death, Milliardo. Nor is it right for me to add my hand to it." Painful… Was there a hint of shame in those words?  
  
"I know. For that much, I can forgive you. But I'm sacrificing almost as much as you in this endeavor, remember."  
  
"Your sister. Sanc."  
  
Duo stiffened at that news. //He has a sister? I thought he said his whole family's dead! And Sanc… Things keep returning to that country…//  
  
"Yes." Zechs's answer was soft.  
  
"You don't think he will leave much of Sanc standing in the end, then."  
  
Hesitantly, quietly… "No. And even if it is, you know I can't return…"  
  
"To what you once were? You still are that, though you don't see it in yourself, Milliardo. Others do. You can't hide it."  
  
Bitterly, "I haven't tried to hide it. Only my own shame do I hide, Treize."  
  
A quiet sigh. "When you break free of your family's conditioning, maybe you'll finally see that it's nothing to be ashamed of... and forgive yourself."  
  
Smiling, Duo's eyes widened at the distant wall he was facing. //So /that's/ why he wears the mask. A pacifist ashamed to kill… And Zechs is his killing persona. I wonder who he will be when he decides to shed it?//  
  
"We're talking about /your/ family's conditioning right now, Treize," came a quiet growl.  
  
A long pause. Then, "All right. I will have them pass information to Heero."  
  
"Then you will contact your loyal supporters still in the organization?"  
  
Wearily, "Yes."  
  
Zechs's response was grave. "Thank you." The hissing stopped with a squeak as the sink faucet was twisted off.  
  
//Ack! Can't be caught!// Duo almost jumped back, pulling the glass from the door, and whirled, desperate for some excuse to be standing. Immediately, he leapt for the pitcher of water and began refilling his glass.  
  
"You can start," Zechs was saying sweetly as they emerged, "by contacting Lady Une, then."  
  
Treize sighed heavily.  
  
Duo blinked, exchanging looks with the other Gundam pilots. //Is that some form of revenge?//  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
One could say that, yes.  
  
Treize did not look very happy when he sat down at the visual com. Zechs, standing to the side well out of the machine's pick-up range, was smirking with arms across his chest, repaired mask dangling from one lightly- bandaged hand. Hanging out in the doorway, Duo and Heero had decided to watch the proceedings… from a safe distance. They appeared to think this would be amusing.  
  
//He's going to try to turn the tables, I'm sure of it,// Miri mused, watching the General punch the correct codes for contacting Lady Une in space. //I just hope she doesn't laugh when she finds out about me… I'm getting very tired of people laughing. It's not /funny/. At least on this end!//  
  
Waiting for the call to go through, another thought hit him. //Damn. Noin's going to see me like this. I just /know/ she'll laugh... I'm /never/ going to live down her next set of height-jokes…!//  
  
The boy released a long-suffering sigh.  
  
Treize gave Zechs a look that said, "I haven't done anything to you yet!" Duo and Heero just glanced at him quizzically.  
  
Giving his head a dismissive shake to turn those three sets of eyes away, Miri resumed his smirk.  
  
//I got the General to do stuff for me. Nana nana nyah!// All right, it was a little child's gleeful success. He didn't care.  
  
It startled the heck out of the man known as Zechs Merquise, though!  
  
Zechs's widened eyes stared into space in sudden concern. //Okay… This… is not good.//  
  
Before he could panic or examine the implications of it, though, the call finally went through and Lady Une's image appeared on the screen. Personal problems were immediately shelved for turning full attention to their war- plans.  
  
"Your—your Excellency!" She seemed surprised.  
  
"Lady. It is good to see you again." Treize maintained his calm expression, steepling his hands together. "I take it by your surprised expression that rumors abound concerning my demise?"  
  
"I… ah… Well, yes, your Excellency." She blinked owlishly behind her glasses. "Word placed you dead and branded Zechs as the traitor who killed you…"  
  
Dipping his head slightly, Treize smiled gently. "Hardly true. Romefeller would wish so, however. No, what happened is this. Romefeller tried to lock up first Zechs, then myself. It appears Duke Dermail considers both of us a threat to his hold on power. However, considering that we have therefore broken away and begun yet another revolution—against Romefeller—he can now be proved correct."  
  
"A… new revolution." Lady Une sounded far from thrilled by the prospect.  
  
"Exactly," Treize purred reassuringly. "However, it is vital for us to know how your mission went…"  
  
"Fairly well, your Excellency," Lady Une answered with a bit of hesitation.  
  
Concern pricked Zechs's spine. //Not 'Successful'? Please tell me she didn't screw up. Please tell me she didn't screw up. Please tell me—//  
  
"Tsuberov was to be taken into custody in the Moon Base. He resisted arrest, however, and managed to set some of those mobile doll things of his on my men. However, they reported blowing him up with his new toys… Unfortunately that means they blew up the rest of the Moon Base in the process…"  
  
Duo had blanched at the thought of so many casualties. Heero's gaze had sharpened to and angry point. Zechs just closed his eyes and shook his head in dismay. //Lady Une… When you clean house, you don't just take out the dust… but the whole block as well!//  
  
"…and with it, the records concerning the number of mobile dolls he successfully delivered so far to Earth."  
  
//Oh damn.//  
  
Treize merely sighed. "That is a shame. However, it is good news that /that/ mad scientist cannot create more monsters for us to face down here… While I am not the most certain of the efficiency of your methods, Lady, you have produced good results."  
  
//I know she /lives/ for Treize's approval, but really, she won't change unless he stops praising her overkill tendencies…// the boy sighed with mental disapproval. Winking at Duo, Zechs mock-gagged silently in the background, drawing a smile from the black-clad Gundam pilot—and to his surprise, Heero as well.  
  
Treize glanced at him warningly before continuing, "That reminds me, Lady—what have you done thus far concerning the scientists behind Operation Meteor, and the freedom of the colonies?"  
  
Lady Une smiled at this change of topic. "A great deal, your Excellency. We have taken into custody all five of the scientists responsible—"  
  
That drew gasps from both Gundam pilots, and even Zechs's eyes widened. //How…? And she didn't overkill this? She got them? What did they do—surrender nicely? They must have! No other way this is possible!//  
  
"—and they are currently locked away in Barge. I have gone around the a couple colonies and begun to reassure them that we fight for their freedom against the Alliance…" There, she paused uncertainly. "Should I change the name of who they are indebted to, your Excellency?"  
  
Treize chuckled softly. "No, let them think it is Oz. But do try to turn their gratitude more towards /our/ Oz and not Dermail's. The distinction will be important later on. As for the scientists…"  
  
When Treize paused, both Gundam pilots stiffened, bracing themselves as if to fight, glaring at the dignified man warningly. Zechs looked from them to his old friend, waiting, curious. //If he has them killed, these two'll be on him in an instant, witnesses or no. It would be nice if we could get those scientists to help us out…//  
  
"Please have them sent down here to Earth. I believe… Hmmm… Brussels is probably the best place to send them," the General mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I believe we can utilize their skills…"  
  
Duo and Heero relaxed… but their eyes still stayed vigilantly on Treize, wary.  
  
"At the moment," Lady Une partially growled, "they are adamant that they will not help us in the least. However, with a bargaining chip, they could likely build us something even stronger than the Gundams."  
  
The two Gundam pilots stiffened again, like synchronized puppets.  
  
Treize smiled slowly, slyly, eyeing the alert pair a moment before looking back to Lady Une.  
  
Zechs echoed that smile slowly. //I think we can persuade them. Or, rather, their pilots can on the behalf of this alliance.//  
  
"I don't think persuading them will be a problem, Lady Une. Please deliver them as soon as possible, however. And keep up the good work." The ginger- haired General beamed cheerfully at his deadly aid before adding, "By the way, before we go, I think Zechs has a few words he'd like to say…"  
  
Evil mischief flickered in Treize's eyes as he looked Zechs's way. The blonde boy glared back. //I /knew/ it. Treize, your shins are going to be /so/ dead after this…// "Treize," he growled warningly.  
  
"Did something happen to his voice, your Excellency?" Lady Une inquired, seeming confused.  
  
Treize merely shook his head negatively at her question, then waved for Zechs to come stand beside him… for the view screen to pick up.  
  
Making a face, Zechs plopped his cracked mask over his head and reluctantly obeyed, coming to stand beside Treize's seated form and forcing an impassive expression over what could be seen of his face. It didn't hide his clenched jaws, however. //Treize… I'm going to pour the last of that rubber cement into your boots tonight for this!//  
  
He watched Lady Une's eyes widen like saucers. Her jaw slowly sank open. But she wasn't one easily stunned—at least, not for long. A tinge of anger furrowed her brow. "This is… some kind of a joke, your Excellency?" She sounded uncertain if he was playing games with her.  
  
"Hardly," Zechs sighed wearily. //So far, no laughing…// Well, that made him feel a /little/ better.  
  
Treize shook his head in slow denial. "No."  
  
"When you next see those scientists, Lady Une," Zechs tried, swallowing his pride, "please do me a favor…"  
  
She blinked dazedly at him from behind her glasses.  
  
"Ask them if they can bring a person back to his normal age?"  
  
Lady Une continued staring a long moment, eyes almost blankly staring through the pale-haired boy.  
  
Then she burst out laughing. Because it was the first time Zechs had ever heard her laugh, it was both humiliating /and/ scary. A laughing Lady Une was a terrifying thing—because there remained some kind of slightly hysterical (or was it insane?) note in every "ha" she uttered. He could feel his face reddening—or was it blanching? He really didn't care which—he just swore to himself to never let this happen again! //Not /this/ lifetime!//  
  
Treize smiled. "We will contact you again later, Lady," he concluded, before terminating the connection.  
  
Zechs turned towards his former commander with eyes narrowed behind the mask, motions deliberately slow. His very stance screamed that he was quite miffed. //Treize…….!// a mental growl built slowly.  
  
The former Oz General smiled at the boy smugly, haughtily. "Yes?" he asked of that intense gaze.  
  
"You are /so/ going to regret this…," Zechs promised.  
  
Treize's smile actually broadened as he held up a pacifying finger. "But /not/," he stated with deliberate smugness, "until after hearing Noin's reaction to this change in you."  
  
//Oh GOD…// Zechs groaned in dismay.  
  
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To be continued.  
  
I'm having too much fun with this… :) 


	16. Say It Started When I Met You

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Sixteen: Say It Started When I met You…  
  
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Disclaimer—If you don't know by now that I don't own anything, then you're really slow to catch on…  
  
Warnings—Treize-torture. Nothing permanent, though. Teasing. Minor violence. Minor mental abuse.  
  
Zechs says hello to Noin. Treize recalls just why he used to keep Zechs occupied on mission after mission... Heero decides to recruit Sally Po as the team's doctor… which does nothing to decrease the stress levels in the alliance. It /does/ offer hope for finding Wufei, though.  
  
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Zechs resisted the urge to pace despite the strain it put on his self- control, waiting as Treize punched the code for reaching Noin in Sanc. //Relax… Relax, Miri. Noin won't laugh her head off. Not if you ask her not to. Trust her… Trust her…//  
  
He clenched his hands until they ached. //Hell, /I/ would laugh at me!// he admitted to himself. //This is just too… too… absurd? Weird? I can't blame Noin if she falls off the chair laughing. Heck, if Lady Une found it funny… and she /never/ laughs…//  
  
Treize glanced at him, smiling smugly still. "Relax. She's /your/ friend, after all," the older man suggested, amused.  
  
"Easy for you to say," Zechs grumbled back. "Lady Une didn't laugh at /you/!" //And I'm still putting something nasty in your boots for this, Treize. Don't even think I'm letting you get away with that!// He could hear Duo and Heero snickering behind his back, but refused to dignify them with a glare.  
  
The ex-Oz General just smirked, and turned to face the screen again as Noin's face appeared. "Ah, Miss Noin," he greeted amiably.  
  
Dark eyes blinked at him, before Noin dipped her head politely. "Your Excellency," she acknowledged, a hint of curiosity in her voice. "Does this mean… that you found him?" She hesitated at the end, uncertain.  
  
//You've been worried for me, Noin…// Miri felt something squeeze his heart, and bowed his head shamefully. //I am sorry to do that to you. Then again, it's not like they let me send letters from there…//  
  
"He took some finding, Miss Noin, but yes, my search has been successful." Treize glanced towards the boy hovering next to the console, out of visual range but within touching distance of the screen. After a pause, he added, "I have some good news and bad news…"  
  
Noin's eyes widened, and she eyed Treize warily, scrutinizingly, as if trying to gain insight on his words by studying his face. "What happened, your Excellency?"  
  
//Here it comes.// Miri braced himself inwardly, though he knew it wouldn't help much.  
  
Treize shifted a bit in his seat, smirking at Zechs's fidgeting. "Well, the good news: he is right here…"  
  
She appeared to slump in relief, smiling hesitantly. "And the bad?" Noin inquired.  
  
Treize merely looked at Zechs.  
  
//Treize… I'm not going to kill you—that'd be too nice of me. I want you to suffer for this… for a LOOOONG time…// Clearing his throat, Miri stated quietly, wearily, "It's a long story, Noin…"  
  
His former classmate frowned slightly. "Zechs…? Did you catch laryngitis or something?"  
  
In the background, Heero smothered a chuckle from his position in the doorway. Duo glanced curiously at his fellow Gundam pilot, lost. Treize merely grinned.  
  
//I wish.// "Not… exactly, Noin," he tried, ignoring the snickers.  
  
Tilting her head, Noin's frown deepened with concern. "Zechs… That mask of yours broke, didn't it? That's why you're hiding."  
  
Miri took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. //I may as well get this over with.// "No, that's not it… Noin… Just promise that you won't laugh."  
  
"That I won't… /laugh/?" The poor woman seemed bewildered.  
  
"That you won't laugh." Zechs kept his voice firm. //And I should have elicited this promise from Lady Une, too, before speaking to her.//  
  
"I don't see why… All right. I promise I won't laugh, Zechs. Now will you stop hiding?" A pleading note entered Noin's voice.  
  
Gathering his courage, the Tallgeese's pilot stepped around the console and traded places with Treize, taking over the seat. Slowly, he looked up through the mask's eyeholes at the screen—and fought the urge to cringe against the laughter he just /knew/ would be forthcoming…  
  
//At least, if she laughs, she can't possibly sound like Lady Une…//  
  
Noin stared, eyes so wide that Zechs wondered how they managed to stay in her head. Her jaw sank down, moved a fraction of an inch in an abortive attempt to say something, then settled for just hanging open for a bit longer. It took a good full minute for Noin to get past the shock, but when she did, she managed to get her jaws moving again, though her eyes continued to bulge.  
  
"Z-Zechs…?"  
  
Bravely, Miri tried a smile. //I guess it could be worse…// "Yes, I know. It makes piloting anything bigger than rollerblades a bit of a challenge."  
  
Noin quickly smothered something into her hand that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. "It… It looks like you've gotten the short end of things, Zechs…"  
  
//Oh no, the blasted height-jokes…// "That's one way of putting it," he sighed, looking down at his sandals. //At least she's not collapsing off her chair with laughter! It really /could/ be much worse…//  
  
When he looked up again, though, Noin was grinning at him in a strange way he had never seen before. In some terribly soft, adoring, ready-to-hug-the- stuffing-out-of-you way. Like someone who found the most adorable puppy forlorn in the street. Or the most alluringly huggable plush toy. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.  
  
//Uh-oh…//  
  
"Zechs," Noin stated, a Cheshire-cat smile spreading across her face.  
  
//This isn't good. This is… This is getting scary…// The normally cool- tempered Lightning Count felt a sudden urge to flee, and fought the inclination to cringe in his seat under that growing smile.  
  
"You look so damn CUTE!" Noin squealed.  
  
//Oh GOD…!// Appalled, horrified, Zechs cringed back until his body was molded to the curving back of the chair, eyes widening in terror under the mask. //All right, I was wrong: it really /is/ worse! Noin actually… /squealed/! She called me… CUTE! I'm not a plushy! Keep /away/ from me, Noin!//  
  
And Noin was still giggling. She /had/ to know how this was making him feel—because it must have been evident on his face and in the way he seemed to want to put the chair between himself and the screen through osmosis. "You look so /adorable/, Zechs! You make such a cute kid!"  
  
//Mommy?// the boy in question mentally wailed, mortified. He glanced over at Treize and the Gundam pilots, pleading desperately with his eyes as he half-whimpered, half-squeaked, "Help?"  
  
Treize never met his eyes—the usual so dignified man was too busy, doubled over with silent laughter that was threatening to be very vocal any second now. Duo was literally sitting on the floor, a sleeve stuffed in his mouth to muffle his mirth, though that didn't stop him from stamping on the floor. Heero had his eyes closed and head thrown back, leaning heavily against the doorjamb, chuckling quietly, though convulsively.  
  
A flare of anger made Miri straighten a little in his seat and glare at the lot. "Some bunch of allies /you/ guys are," he griped.  
  
They merely laughed the harder.  
  
With a weak groan, Zechs slid his hands over his face, under the edge of the mask. //If there isn't a cure for this age thing, I don't think I'll live much longer…//  
  
Noin giggled quietly, trying to hide her smile with a hand when those icy blue eyes opened again to glare at her through the mask. "Really, Zechs… I don't think it's that bad. Just keep telling yourself that it could be worse…" she suggested mischievously.  
  
Dropping his hands, Miri's eyes hardened, and he waved at his allies with one hand as he turned the view screen with the other so she could see his companions, already half on the floor, laughing uproariously.  
  
"If you find out /how/, Noin, let me know!"  
  
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Revenge, as expected, took place that night. Treize had taken special precautions—such as having a couple of his men guard his room from all comers, and checking his bed and room carefully before actually slipping between the covers.  
  
//I know he's going to do /something/. Zechs was not very pleased by today's humiliations. For shame, Treize, taking pleasure in your best friend's embarrassment… Oh what the heck—it was funny and it was worth it!// Treize couldn't help a slight smirk as he stared up at the ceiling. //Worth every bit of it… God help me, though. Zechs won't let me live it down…//  
  
Noin had been very willing—almost glad—to hear that the whole lot of them, which was just short of two full armies, intended to drop in, perhaps permanently. Of course, only she and Zechs had any idea how many Sanc could house and hide. //Still, of course she wouldn't discuss it with him before the Gundam pilots. As he said, she would never betray his identity.//  
  
That made him thoughtful—and speculative—about what could happen when they met Miss Relena. Only heaven knew how Zechs would react. It was inevitable, however, that the hostess meet her guests at some point or other—if not by their choice, then likely she would hunt them out on her own. That was, if the inquisitive streak in Zechs ran true for her. Hopefully the evilly mischievous streak did NOT!  
  
//I don't think the world could take two Peacecrafts like that at the same time… And he lived with at least five levels of cousins?!? I remember feeling sorry for the King… I know /I/ cannot endure a whole extended family like that! I'd have been in the hospital by the end of the week!// But he couldn't help a soft chuckle. //On the other hand… It's /such/ fun to tease him! I had forgotten what he was like as a child… and the chaos we caused between the lot of us, with Dorothy.//  
  
Fond memories carried the ex-Oz General off to sleep, feeling safe and sound… and knowing that this feeling of security was merely his own illusion. For despite all his preparations and precautions, Treize Kushrenada knew better.  
  
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The next morning, Zechs calmly strode into the conference room with a mugful of coffee in one hand and mask in the other and a serene smile on his face, moving to take a seat. Setting the mug on the table, he lounged against one arm of the chair, hanging his feet over the other, and glanced up at the clock on the wall expectantly.  
  
//Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…//  
  
Duo blinked at him from over another coffee mug, Quatre seated beside him with some aromatic tea, their quiet conversation dying under the weight of their growing curiosity. Heero, at the far end of the table, ticked time away on his new laptop industriously, not appearing aware of anything going on around him.  
  
"Hey, Zechs… are you expecting something?" Duo queried, blinking first at the clock, then at the pale boy.  
  
Miri nodded smugly, glancing back up at the clock. //Real soon now…// "Ten, nine, eight, seven…"  
  
Heero paused typing without looking up, and reaching into his belt, produced some wads of something from a pocket, quickly sticking them into his ears.  
  
Quatre exchanged worried looks with Duo.  
  
"…two, one…" Zechs finished, grinning broadly.  
  
Someone shrieked in an almost feminine fashion.  
  
Duo looked about fearfully, as if wondering if it was something he'd done or that he would be blamed for. Quatre started, worried eyes darting about for the source.  
  
Heero resumed typing away, but brought up a quiet question, as if asking about the weather or the current status of his Gundam. "What did you do to him?"  
  
"Oh, just the traditional something in the shampoo. Never thought I could find that specific hue, but it's amazing what the rugmakers around here could scrounge up for me…" Miri supplied nonchalantly, still watching the clock. //I thought that fiery, glowing scarlet shade was most amazing… Now another minute for him to dry off…//  
  
Quatre groaned and hid his face in his hands. "Allah save us… Won't his men react?"  
  
Zechs half-giggled, half-chuckled slyly. "Not unless he acts like his hair is different around them. Which he won't. He knew this was coming." //I /did/ warn him!//  
  
Duo shook his head and grinned. "Guess it could be worse…" he stated.  
  
Heero snorted softly, as if to disagree.  
  
Miri looked back up at the clock, smiling cheerfully. //Thirty seconds…//  
  
"Yeah, well, guess I rather like my hair as it is, too, Heero," Duo admitted. "Hey, isn't it safe to remove those earplugs yet?"  
  
Without peeling his eyes from the clock, Zechs offered, "It's not over yet…" //Twenty…//  
  
Heero, still typing away, nodded slightly without looking at them.  
  
Quatre looked from one to the other, scratching his head. "Are you in on it, Heero?" he asked, a little confused.  
  
"No," came the terse answer from Wing's pilot.  
  
Miri merely smirked. //He didn't have to be.//  
  
"He warned Treize," Heero added after a moment, to explain. "It was obvious."  
  
//…two, one…//  
  
"ZECHS!!!!" someone screamed angrily.  
  
"Right on time," the boy murmured with satisfaction. "Treize is nothing if not routine…" //Now give him five minutes to soak ort rip the worst off and escape it… and realize just what it means…//  
  
Quatre shivered, and huddled over his mug of tea as if needing it for reassurance.  
  
Duo eyed Zechs warily, scratching his head, and asking cautiously, "Do I want to ask what /that/ one was for…?"  
  
Miri looked down at his mug happily. "Probably not, but if you're curious… Rubber cement in his long uniform pants." //I discarded the idea of rubber cementing his boots…//  
  
Duo winced. Quatre whimpered. Heero's fingers stopped tapping and the Perfect Soldier actually glanced over at the blonde ex-Oz pilot in something akin to mild surprise.  
  
"How's he going to get them /off/?" Duo asked hesitantly.  
  
//Oh, he'll find a way… eventually. But it'll take every hair he has with it.// "I can't recall which, but either turpentine or nail polish remover does the trick… Both of which mean a rather smelly bath… In any case, I think we may as well get on with this meeting. He won't be joining us anytime soon." Closing his eyes contently, Zechs Merquise took a leisurely chug of his coffee.  
  
"Brr… Man, I'm glad I'm not /him/," Duo muttered, shuddering. "Until he gets that bath… That's /gotta/ chafe!"  
  
Quatre made a gagging sound.  
  
Heero actually snickered. "Consider it payback… for the New Edwards Base incident."  
  
Duo just shook his head until his braid swung like a pendulum and grinned broadly. "Still… How did you come up with these kinds of punishments?"  
  
Zechs settled back with coffee in one hand, and flopped the mask over his face with the other, smirking slyly at the Gundam pilots. With the mask over his face and that slight smile beneath, it added to his air of a Cheshire-cat's unavoidable and potentially detrimental mischief—a type of mischief you usually want to avoid.. "Oh, I've been in the revenge business for a looong time…"  
  
Lounging contentedly, Miri closed his eyes under the mask and sipped his coffee again. //It sort of came with the name… Maybe I should start a business after the war: Zechs Merquise, Professional Humilliator. "They humiliate you, I make them regret it." It sounds promising…//  
  
Quiet footsteps approached, and Trowa wandered in the door, looking over his shoulder in a somewhat-suspicious manner, as if not quite believing his eyes though what he saw was no longer there.  
  
"Good morning, Trowa," Quatre offered brightly, sounding relieved to see the tall Gundam pilot. "Is something wrong…?"  
  
Trowa tilted his head to the side, as if puzzled, then pointed a thumb over his shoulder towards the corridor. "What happened to Treize?" he asked, curious.  
  
"Does it look like he fell into a tub of dye?" Duo piped up eagerly. That idea of revenge for the New Edwards Base incident obviously appealed to him.  
  
The green-eyed Gundam pilot frowned slightly. "If he did, that's not what soaked his pants. They're still white, though glued to him."  
  
Duo chuckled evilly, trying to hide his glee behind his coffee.  
  
"It /is/ glued to him," Quatre supplied, making a face, clearly torn between sympathy and enjoying this torment of their former enemy.  
  
"This meeting won't be terribly productive, then," Trowa sighed, taking a seat. "He's the one who can find the supplies and men we need to overhaul all the suits."  
  
A short silence answered him.  
  
"It's /his/ fault!" voices chorused, three hands darting out to point…  
  
At Zechs.  
  
Zechs opened his eyes and stared at the fingers aimed at him. Heero wasn't looking up from his laptop, even, but his hand still pointed. Mentally, he sighed. //And they say /I'm/ regressing?// "Hey, I /did/ warn him…" //All's fair in love and war…//  
  
"I have to admit, we can desperately use both help and supplies," Rashid sighed from the doorway, entering the conversation.  
  
Everyone seemed to sigh unhappily in the silence that followed, crestfallen. If Rashid said they needed it—they probably desperately needed it. And Wing Gundam wasn't even fully completed yet!  
  
Miri eyed his reflection in his coffee mug. //Supplies are probably the hardest to find. All the gundanium down here on Earth is usually tracked…//  
  
Squirming a little, Duo piped up, "I know a guy who can bring some help, then. Howard—he has a barge out in the ocean, and he fixed Heero's and my Gundams before. His prices vary, though—from money to assistance to whatever his whim is at the time, though I never had a bad bargain from him."  
  
The large Maganac smiled. "Well, that's something," he rumbled. "If you can contact him, we can meet in Sanc's New Port City."  
  
"Speaking of Sanc, we need to do something about /him/," Quatre added quietly, gesturing at Zechs again. "You said you wanted to be yourself there," the blonde Gundam pilot supplied gently.  
  
Zechs grimaced into his coffee. "The only one who I know who /could/ reverse this is the one who injected me with the vile thing… And I don't think we can persuade her to cooperate. She enjoyed it a bit too much, if I recall right…" Mentally, he shuddered, recalling that frightening face amid whirling blurry colors, the spreading heat in his thigh from the injection… //No. Not her. Even if I have to stay like this the rest of my life!//  
  
"Doctor Hassan said he's really not up to date on this kind of research," Quatre admitted softly, unhappy. "I don't think the scientists who built our Gundams did anything with biology, just engineering… So we should probably find another doctor…"  
  
"Sally Po," Heero's voice supplied, his fingers rattling against his keyboard in a steady rhythm.  
  
"Huh? The Alliance woman from New Edwards?" Duo wondered. "Why her? I mean, she was nice to us and all, but still…"  
  
Miri shuddered and cringed slightly in his chair, hugging his coffee mug close. //A doctor from the Alliance? She'd probably kill me! I think /nobody/ from the Alliance would forgive me for my role in Operation Daybreak!// "I… ah… don't think…," he began hesitantly.  
  
Heero ignored the mild protest. "She would be willing, and from her records, knowledgeable. From her reactions then, this kind of experiment would abhor her."  
  
"Anyone know anyone else?" Quatre asked brightly.  
  
Trowa shook his head in denial. Duo merely shrugged helplessly. Rashid stared at the table, arms folded across his chest.  
  
"But… from the Alliance?" Miri asked weakly, sitting up. "Anyone from there would probably kill me rather than look at me—let alone help me!" //There /has/ to be someone else!//  
  
Duo blinked at him. "She /seemed/ nice enough…"  
  
"I think she would hold more of a grudge against Lady Une for the New Edwards Base incident rather than you," Heero supplied, looking up, though his fingers continued to fly on the keyboard. "I will have her meet us in Sanc… Besides, she was recently reported around—and helping—Gundam 05… We may be able to contact him through her."  
  
"Wufei," Trowa murmured softly.  
  
Zechs shivered slightly, looking into his coffee mug uncertainly. //I don't know if that's a good sign or a bad one!//  
  
"We should at least offer him the chance to join us," Quatre suggested, asking for acceptance with his voice.  
  
Duo scratched at the base of his braid and shrugged. Rashid didn't so much as move, though he sighed softly—probably thinking about fixing yet /another/ Gundam. Trowa nodded slowly.  
  
Miri sighed softly. "All right…" //I'm not the wildest about this, though… Not after seeing what he did to Lake Victoria.// "Noin may have a grudge about how he slaughtered her students in Lake Victoria, though… Just so you're warned."  
  
Heero nodded slightly to acknowledge it. "We will deal with that when we come to it…"  
  
Miri wasn't concerned so much with those two fighting, though. //Noin could hold her own. She was just surprised at the time—and I must admit, so was I… It's this "Sally Po" that I worry more about…//  
  
"Zechs… She won't hurt you," Heero stated quietly.  
  
//Reading my mind, Heero. We're too much alike at times!// Zechs nodded slowly, sighing softly. "I hope so, Heero… Because if she's not fully willing to give it her all, considering how that first injection felt, I'm going to have a /really/ painful and horrible death."  
  
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To be continued.  
  
Any suggestion what I should have happen to Duke Dermail? Or the three bad guys Zechs met in Chapter 2? 


	17. Let Them Watch With Amazement

That's Childish, So Childish…  
  
Chapter Seventeen: Let Them Watch With Amazement…  
  
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Disclaimer—No, I don't own Gundam Wing. Do you think I would have let the series end if I did? *Evil grin* Oh, by the way—fish update. That suicidal, antagonistic Betta? I got two more fish to replace his "troops"—gouramis. BIG mistake. Those two new guys purely hate each other (they got along in the pet store!), and pick on poor blue Betta (tho they don't try to kill /him/). So the Betta is now called Treize… *Sighs* Why do /I/ always get the insane fish?!?  
  
Warnings—Glomphing. Mental torture. Bruised shins. Near suffocation. Limping Treize. I don't think that warrants raised ratings, though.  
  
The gang goes to Sanc… and meets Noin and Sally and Pagan. You can bet the greetings are rather interesting…  
  
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Zechs gazed out the window of the Raven glumly, mask in his lap, watching clouds flutter by over the ocean.  
  
//But /I/ wanted to fly!// he moped.  
  
Well, it was one minor irritation. To tell the truth, something else bothered him more. And it was more apparent to him with each passing day. Nor was it very comforting.  
  
//I'm regressing…//  
  
Resting chin on hand, he sighed softly, too weary of it to fret over it anymore.  
  
//I suppose I should just be glad I'm still sane… Shouldn't I? It could be worse. There are worse things than thinking like a kid. Like thinking like… like… what did I call those three again? No, I don't want to remember them! No, just let it rest… Not much else I can do, is there? Accept it, deal with it… but not change it, no.//  
  
"Penny for your thoughts?" Treize asked beside him.  
  
Zechs glanced over at his old friend, purposely avoiding looking at the empty command chair which used to be his. Duo and Heero had taken the pilot seats, and Quatre and Trowa had taken the two seats on the opposite side of the plane. Rashid was elsewhere, directing the rest of the squadron of mobile suit planes with the Maganacs and Treize's Aries troops… an escort service, of sorts.  
  
Treize looked a bit more comfortable than he had the day before, now that his pants weren't glued to his skin. The hair was still a flaming, almost biting scarlet however. Not that Treize pretended to notice. His men, however, had been giving the General second-glances when he wasn't looking, sheer confusion and incredulity plain on their faces. Glimpsing that bright hair, Miri couldn't help but smile…  
  
"Zechs," Treize sighed, clearly guessing what was creating that smile simply from where those eyes were focused.  
  
"You have to take inflation into account, Treize. Plus I need the revenue. I'm jobless right now," Zechs admitted, not looking away from his triumph. //You would really stand out in a crowd, Treize… Not to mention do a fair job as a landing beacon in a thick fog.//  
  
"A quarter?" Treize smirked, amused by the conversation.  
  
"That doesn't get you a pack of gum these days."  
  
"Hmm. True. Usually your thoughts aren't so expensive, though." The ex- Oz General's eyes were gentle, but worried.  
  
Zechs glanced back out the window, watching clouds puff over a blue-grey sea, as if echoing the tiny crests of the waves far below. //I guess I'm nervous… I don't want to see a doctor. Especially an /Alliance/ doctor. Especially… like this. I'm more vulnerable like this. And… I'm afraid I'll be utterly useless if this regressing thing continues much further.//  
  
"Just wondering… what if she can't make me normal again," he murmured quietly.  
  
Treize remained silent a long moment, before offering softly, "Then you finally have a normal childhood, I guess. If a permanent one."  
  
Miri snorted, one hand touching the glass of the window, so cool to the touch. "Not with... I remember too much, Treize."  
  
The older man remained quiet for a long moment.  
  
//It bothers you, too. You remember a lot, too—but not so vividly. For that, I'm glad. Nobody should have seen what I saw…// Zechs closed his eyes sadly. //Thank you, Treize… for caring.//  
  
"Your friends will stay by you, Zechs. On that you can count."  
  
"I know… I don't deserve it, but… thank you."  
  
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The gunmetal-blue plane landed on the water, scaring away seagulls as it entered the cliff-base entrance of the underground facility in Sanc. The secret base's sheer practicality did seem to impress the Gundam pilots a bit—not a hint would show on radar or satellite photos, yet from its size, it could keep them all safely hidden. It suited the new alliance's plan of staying as Relena's wild card perfectly.  
  
/If / she was willing…  
  
//I don't know whether I want her to say yes or no… Yes, and watch her risk her life and Sanc? I might get another premature heart attack! Or no, and struggle to find a secondary plan that could work at all? Or… take it on myself, all of it? No, that last is too much… Someone would end up rending me limb from limb—I would be a hypocrite, and hypocrites don't live long in the political world, nor do most live after it at all!//  
  
Miri felt a thrill of apprehension as they descended from the plane to the underground dock, his meager belongings slung over a shoulder in a leather satchel. A couple extra pairs of clean clothes—gifts from the townsfolk back in Africa—and a forlorn teddy bear. The mask hid most of his face again. He was acutely aware of the weight, the limits to his vision, though it was comfortable still—the Maganacs had done a good job repairing it…  
  
//War. I need to remind myself who—and what—I am now. Not Milliardo! Zechs Merquise—cool, silent killer… Killer… Killer…// The word echoed terribly. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before quickly taking the steps down to catch up with Trowa. //A killer… Get used to it, damn it! You have to protect Relena, remember? You can only do that… as Zechs.//  
  
A glimpse ahead told him that Noin wasn't alone by the passage heading deeper into this lair— she had company, and both seemed quite awestruck (or dumbfounded) by Treize's nearly-glowing hair, or so their open jaws made it seem. But his own party got in the way before he could truly distinguish the braided blonde figure waiting with her.  
  
//I /hate/ being short…//  
  
Slowing his steps as he caught up and the two parties faced each other, he peered around the tallest Gundam pilot to watch the introductions. Even as Noin stepped forward to meet Quatre, who, as the most social of the Gundam pilots, had taken the lead for the new alliance, Rashid and a handful of Maganacs walked up behind Zechs, watching the proceedings over his head. A quiet hum of activity began behind them, as the other Maganacs and Treize's loyal troops began unloading suits and getting things in order.  
  
"Welcome to Sanc," Noin offered, voice quiet but warm. "I'm Lucrezia Noin—just call me Noin…"  
  
When she hesitated, Quatre turned his smile on full-beam and took the initiative, carrying out the introductions. "I'm Quatre Rabera Winner, the pilot of Gundam Sandrock. I'm sure you know Mister Treize…"  
  
Treize inclined his head politely to Noin, who nodded back with a slightly uncertain smile—an incredulous glance at the fuchsia hair—and the quiet acknowledgement of, "Your Excellency." Her blonde companion just eyed the hair quizzically.  
  
"…Duo Maxwell, pilot of Gundam Deathscythe…"  
  
Duo flashed her a broad grin and the two-finger peace salute around Quatre's shoulder. "Shinigami, at your service," he admitted proudly.  
  
Noin blinked. "'Scuse me?" she asked, bewildered.  
  
The braided Gundam pilot chuckled, and shrugged nonchalantly. "'God of Death', or 'Angel of Death'—that's what we say 'Shinigami' means on L2."  
  
//Guess I'm not the only one with a dark fighting persona,// Zechs mused, a slow smile touching his lips. It felt good to have that in common. //Sometime I'll have to ask him how he got his… But then, I'm not anxious to explain mine, either, so asking him might be presumptuous of me.//  
  
Noin merely smiled and shook her head, her dark-blond companion chuckling softly.  
  
"…Heero Yuy, pilot of Gundam Wing," Quatre continued cheerfully.  
  
Heero just grunted. Nobody seemed very surprised, not even the two women under the close scrutiny of those Prussian-blue eyes. They simply smiled at him in amusement. Heero glowered back, not making a single additional sound. Apparently he was trying to be antisocial, not a source of entertainment… and not succeeding as much as he liked.  
  
A delicate cough drew attention back to Quatre. "Trowa Barton, pilot of Gundam Heavyarms…"  
  
The quiet green-eyed Gundam pilot nodded silently but politely at his name.  
  
Quatre turned around to finish the rest of the introductions… and hesitated, a bit at a loss as he looked right at…  
  
//Just get on with it, Quatre. There /is/ no good way to introduce me like this…// Zechs sighed softly.  
  
The blonde Gundam pilot echoed the boy, turning back to Noin and the tall blonde woman. "I think you might recognize Zechs… for the most part, at least," he offered hopefully.  
  
Gathering his courage, Miri set his pack at his feet and stepped forward, offering a wry smile and extending a hand to Noin's companion companionably, hoping it would be accepted as a gesture of peace…  
  
The hand never reached its destination. A dark blur in the corner of his eyes—and he was swept up off his feet and suffocating against something warm, soft, and familiarly smelling of lilacs.  
  
"Zechs!" Noin sounded overjoyed.  
  
//Erg?// Noin's reaction had surprised him—a little only, though, considering how she had reacted when she saw him on the visual phone. But he could barely turn his head. And when he did slightly so he could get his mouth and nose free of suffocatingly-thick blue cloth and lace, it really didn't help. She was still squeezing the stuffing out of him. //Nice to… see you, too? While most men would appreciate this view, Noin, I'm in no shape medically to do so… Air… Need air! God, Noin, just let me /breathe/ already!//  
  
"Ack… Noin…" he wheezed feebly.  
  
"I was so worried about you," she whispered back into his ear.  
  
///I'm/ worried about me, right now!// Squirming, arms pinned to his sides, he didn't want to have to kick her in the leg—or groin—but his options were running low along with his oxygen supply, as he was increasingly growing desperate. //Can't you see I'm turning blue here—no, wait, guess you can't, with the mask… Oh damn it!//  
  
Were people actually chuckling around them?  
  
"Noin…! Need… to /breathe/…!" Miri struggled a bit harder.  
  
He felt her stiffen in surprise, confusion, realization, then—  
  
Abruptly she let go, and Zechs found himself half-sprawled at her feet, panting. //Yeesh… I hope you didn't crack this mask further, Noin. I don't think they can repair it again.// "Noin!" he admonished, unable to add to her name yet because he had to catch his breath.  
  
The dark-haired young woman smiled impishly down at him. "Sorry, Zechs…"  
  
//Yeah, right. And I'm sorry I had your favorite Aries painted that sickly green color last April Fool's!// Glaring back at her through the mask, he pointed out, "I have /not/ turned into a plushy, no matter what they did to me, Noin!"  
  
Noin smirked smugly, eyes taking on that frightening puppy-dog look again. "But Zechs… you just look so damn /cute/!"  
  
Miri couldn't contain a wince, and held up his hands in a warding gesture, hoping to avoid another rib-cracking hug. //Uh-oh… Keep /away/ from me!!!// "God help me," he groaned in dismay.  
  
A low chuckle from next to Noin drew both their attention to the dark- blonde woman, whose gently laughing eyes echoed the smile tugging at her mouth. Bending slightly, she offered Zechs a hand up.  
  
"So you're my new patient," she offered with a placid amusement hint to her voice. "I'm Sally, by the way."  
  
Zechs eyed her offered hand warily, then glanced back up at her eyes measuringly… //She seems nice enough… I'm amazed. The Alliance didn't generally draw people like this, at least that I've seen over the years… She seems decent, but…// "You aren't going to try breaking my ribs for the hundredth time, like Noin, are you?" he asked warningly.  
  
Sally laughed softly, shaking his head slightly, making her braids swing. "Not if it bothers you so much, no. Though Noin's right—you make a cute kid. You certainly are less intimidating as a kid, too."  
  
Miri grimaced, but accepted her help back to his feet—and glared at Noin (who pretended not to notice). "Thank you," he offered, dignity restored. For now, anyway. //I may as well accept it. The price of this revenge isn't my soul… it'll be paid in personal humiliation.//  
  
"Hn… Can you do anything with him?" Heero's voice broke in, as the Perfect Soldier stepped forward.  
  
Zechs glanced over his shoulder at his allies… only to close his eyes and sigh. Heero and Sally were perhaps the only ones not snickering. But then, they were practically holding their own conversation. The rest were at it again—laughing. Not as uproariously as before, but with quiet giggles and chuckles and the occasional boom from even Rashid. //Yeah, I'm glad you were all amused by this. Thank you /so/ much for your assistance. I swear, you will have an /equally/ interesting stay here at Sanc…// Ice blue eyes flicked open and echoed the slight smile slipping beneath the mask. //Welcome to /my/ realm… Be sure to fasten your safety-belts, because this is going to be a /very/ interesting stay for you… I guarantee it.//  
  
"I can't be sure until I have all the medical data we can gather," Sally was saying, smile replaced by a concerned uncertainty. "And even then, a solution may be more dangerous than leaving things as is."  
  
Zechs shivered, looking up at Sally with desperate hope in his eyes. //Oh, God, don't leave me like /this!/ I don't know how many hugs like that I can take!// "Please," he whispered. //I don't know how long I can stand being unable to distance my memories… Not life-long, I'm certain.//  
  
Their discussion seemed to have dampened Duo's mirth, at any rate. The dark-clad Gundam pilot interjected, "Memories… Whatever they did to him, all his memories are as fresh as yesterday…"  
  
That information drew a slight frown to Heero's face and concern into those cold blue eyes as they flicked to Duo, then Zechs again.  
  
Sally tilted her head thoughtfully, studying Zechs's half-hidden face and those wide, pleading icy eyes. "Fresh… Only recent memories? Say the past dozen years?"  
  
"/All/ of them," Miri murmured quietly, letting his eyes beg for him. "Everything is recent now… It's torture—the worst thing they could do to me." //Don't leave me like this, please. It's kill or cure—because I can't /live/ like this, not for long!//  
  
The ex-Alliance major nodded slowly, mouth firming in a determined line. "I'll do my best," she promised him—and he knew she meant those soft words with all her heart. Sally turned back to Heero sharply. "I'll need everything you can find out about what was done. If anyone can find out, I'm sure you can, Heero."  
  
Wing's pilot frowned a bit deeper, then turned to Duo, who had been listening carefully. "We may have to raid the research base. You know which one?"  
  
"Congo's Research Base," Treize threw in smoothly, joining the conversation, sharp eyes announcing that he wouldn't allow himself to miss out on aiding this endeavor. "They may have moved the project elsewhere after my visit, however."  
  
//I hope not… I was number six. Surely there were others… Others… I wonder if they survived?// Miri gazed into space, digging through his memories after waking, hunting signs of the other test subjects…  
  
"I can find them." Heero was coldly confident.  
  
"How long do you think it can take?" Quatre asked uncertainly, yet still hopeful. Rashid and Trowa stepped up at either shoulder behind him, interested in the answer.  
  
Sally looked back down at the pale-haired boy, thoughtful.  
  
"There were others… at least ten total," Miri stated slowly, almost absently, counting closed and marked doors in that corridor replayed in his memory. //Yes… But were they still alive even then? I heard nothing… Only my own screams.// It took him a moment to rip away from the memory, and he shook his head like a dog trying to lose water from its coat, breaking back into the present.  
  
Sally was watching him intently, assessingly… yet concern lurked in her eyes. Lifting her gaze to meet Quatre's hopeful eyes and Noin's worried ones, she stated firmly, "Get me all the data you can from their project files, and I think I can put together something in about a month."  
  
A breath of relief floated through the members of the strange alliance.  
  
Miri released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding with a soft sigh. //Something… Thank God. Better death than this way for the rest of my life…//  
  
"It may not undo everything… but I think I can undo the worst," Sally added hesitantly. "But if something goes wrong… Just trying can likely kill you."  
  
Zechs nodded slowly, accepting the risk. "It beats the alternative…"  
  
//…Insanity…//  
  
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As they walked through the halls, Quatre filled Noin and Sally in on the general plan, with the occasional interjection from Treize. The rest simply shouldered their personal luggage and trailed along behind.  
  
Duo took in the layout of the installation as they trudged along—in part because Heero refused to contribute to any form of conversation and he'd decided to give up and just listen in on the others. //They're more interesting… I bet Heero's memorizing this place, too. It's a pretty neat layout. I'm surprised that Zechs and Noin didn't let it be turned into an Oz base, as they knew about this from before, it seems… I wonder why.//  
  
"This passage," Noin was saying, "continues on towards a handful of exits in various ends of the countryside. It's a small country, but it will allow us to get suits out fast, unnoticed, if necessary. So we'll just turn left here, and take the stairs up to the next level… There's seven in all."  
  
//The ten-cent tour. But you get a fair bit out of it, it seems. How did such a place as this appear here, in a pacifist nation? This must have taken decades to build—or, rather, tunnel!// So he tossed his question into the ring. "Who built this? I thought this was a peaceful nation…"  
  
Noin hesitated, looking at Zechs, who didn't look up at her, but kept plodding methodically. With a soft sigh, she opened the oak double doors to the stairs. Marble stairs. Brass railings. /Wide/ stairs spiraling up, with delicate light fixtures…  
  
//Good God! That must have cost a bundle!//  
  
Even Trowa's eyes bulged at the elegant passage up. "Definitely not the military," he murmured.  
  
"There are a couple service elevators up, too, but I think they'll be needed more for moving the mobile suits around," Noin added, a bit flushed, as if embarrassed.  
  
"Isn't this rather extravagant for a military base?" Quatre piped up, hesitant to enter through those doors, and so blocking the rest from entering.  
  
//Weirdest military place I've ever seen… Hey!// Duo blinked as he was elbowed roughly, and frowned down—to find Zechs not stopping even for Quatre. In fact, the boy seemed almost /determined/ to get out of here as fast as he could, short of running—and equally determined not to look at the lavish surroundings. The boy stepped past Quatre without looking up, eyes set on the floor at his feet, always the next step. //Why's he so… depressed? It's like he's trying to punish himself—or something about this place really bothers him…//  
  
Zechs's quiet voice was harsh as he flung the answer to them, full of subdued… anger? Disgust? He strode past Noin as if she never existed… and perhaps, his memories were indeed blinding him. "It never was a base. These are the royal family's yacht docks. Above, they used to keep the helicopters and planes they traveled in… The sea is rough on such."  
  
//This place hurts him…// Duo stared after the boy, watching that furious figure storming up the stairs.  
  
"I'm sorry," Noin whispered softly, her gaze following Duo's after the boy. "This was his hometown… and all of Sanc loved the royal family." Her eyes tried to apologize on Zechs's behalf…  
  
//No, change that—upsets him. Maybe, because we've brought war into a place of peace—his home.// Sighing, Duo glanced at Noin with a touch of niggling suspicion. //You know a lot more about him than we do, don't you?//  
  
The others seemed to accept Noin's explanation, though Sally seemed to be filing away other questions, giving Noin an intrigued look that made Duo suspect she, too, had guessed that Noin knew a lot more than she was telling. Treize clapped Quatre on the shoulder and bowed for him to lead on, and the party followed in the angry youth's wake up the stairs.  
  
//Quite the palace…// Deathscythe's pilot mused, looking about with awed eyes. Tiled inlay made up the walls… brightening their passage up so that one could easily forget they were well inside a cliff of solid rock. //How did Zechs know this was here? Watched the royals coming and going, right? Bet that must have been a sight to see…//  
  
"Well," Noin added glumly as they continued up, ignoring various landings that appeared. "I think Zechs rather summed up the rest of the tour. There's nothing to see now, I'm afraid. The yachts rotted and floated away because the lower doors weren't closed, and the planes and other vehicles were… taken by those few servants who survived, so they could escape." She paused, head lowered a long moment, then nodded and resumed climbing the stairs. "That leaves little more than wheel blocks and cover-drapes…"  
  
"I take it that the townsfolk didn't know about this place?" Sally asked, curious.  
  
Noin shook her head negatively. "Not really—not how to find it, or get in. But then, not many of them survived, either. The town's called 'New Port City' for a reason, you know… Most of the old is only rubble, and a lot of that still has to be cleared away, even now."  
  
"Like the old palace," Treize murmured thoughtfully.  
  
Again, Noin stopped abruptly, eyeing the ex-Oz General warily a moment, then sighing softly. "I don't think anyone has the heart to try anything there… It's essentially shunned. I don't think anyone has the heart to take the chance they might uncover a body. Only those found in the safer sections of the ruins were buried, after all, your Excellency."  
  
Duo frowned sadly at the stairs, watching his feet. //Rather like Maxwell church, I suppose. But they dug until all those bodies were found… They just never could rebuild there. Too afraid of the ghosts, I guess.//  
  
The top of the stairs finally gave way to… a mess of rubble. Large chunks of stone had obviously been cleared to allow access to the solid steel doors of the staircase. Larger, jagged chunks rose as shattered monuments before them, however. Parts of turrets pointing upward like forgotten broken arrows, parts of roof flapping in the sea's constant wind like sad banners, jutting edges of shattered floors and fire-blasted walls threateningly sharp in the afternoon sky… It wasn't hard to guess just where they were.  
  
//The old palace…// Duo stared in horror at the rubble, memories clashing, overshadowing, showing him bodies that weren't there, but where they must have fallen… //Maxwell Church… Sister Helen… Father…// He blinked away tears, only to realize that the group was leaving him behind.  
  
Taking a step, he hurried through what had probably been a lovely back courtyard to catch up—only to wince at that first steps he took.  
  
They crunched.  
  
Looking at his feet, he shivered. Broken glass, some of it previously from stained glass windows, crunched underfoot. Chunks of scorched roof tiles lay in shattered clumps. Ash, so thick on everything that it had not yet fully been scoured away by years of wind and storms. And… something that gleamed, that caught his eye. Stooping, Duo bent to snatch up the bright object without stopping to examine it, then ran to regain the tail of the group.  
  
//I wonder how even the servants who survived got out of that,// Duo thought with a faint shudder, as he followed the others through a couple more courtyards, over a nearly-leveled stone wall, and out into a street where a couple limos awaited.  
  
Treize seemed pensive, and had stopped to look back at the palace, a sad light in his eyes. The other Gundam pilots and Rashid were already piling into one limo, whose driver looked familiar—Relena's droop-mustached old assistant from school.  
  
//At least the limos they sent for us aren't /pink/,// Duo decided with a broad grin. Turning, he looked back at the palace one past time…  
  
Sally, too, was staring at the ruined palace, but also passing small glances at the General, clearly curious about his scrutiny of the place.  
  
"I remember when my parents brought me here during a visit," Treize murmured abruptly, voice reverent. "It was so beautiful…"  
  
//So, he met the royal family…// Duo rubbed the back of his head as he studied the remains of the beautiful building, trying to imagine what it had looked like. Not enough remained to supply any kind of picture to his mind, however, and he sighed, feeling the sorrow of the place sinking into his soul. //This place probably isn't very good for Quatre… though I'd like to look around it sometime. Meet some ghosts that are like those back home, I suppose. No wonder Zechs is set on getting revenge for these people. Look at what the Alliance did to them… Look at what they did to /me/… We're very alike… But this is worse. This is worse…//  
  
"Hey, Duo, we're going!" Noin called, smiling, from the driver's seat of the limo behind him.  
  
//Oops! Can't get left behind!// "Hey, you can't go without me!" he laughed, diving for the open door.  
  
Clambering into the back, he wriggled past Treize and Sally and found a seat by the glass partition, flashing Noin a bright grin. "Hey, where's Zechs?" he inquired. "Bet the other car's squished with so many—especially Rashid, the guy's as big as a rhino."  
  
Noin, focusing on the battered road, pulled the car away from the decimated palace, and didn't look at him. "He probably decided to walk… He knows the way. He probably knows this area better than anyone else. We're not going very far, Duo." There was something gently unhappy in her voice, however. Not worried—only… maybe concerned. Sympathy perhaps.  
  
Duo glanced at the dark-haired woman uncertainly, curiosity perking. //She really /does/ know stuff he doesn't talk about.// "Is that safe for a kid, on these streets?" he asked. //Not in most cities, it isn't!//  
  
"He can handle himself here," she assured quietly, confident. "The trip really /is/ shorter on foot, but all of you had so many bags…" A shy smile touched her lips. "I thought it would be more hospitable to roll out a welcome wagon."  
  
//In short, drop the subject. Fine… I'll do that… For now.// Duo nodded, and settled back in his seat, back towards the glass partition. Recalling the object he'd picked up, he lifted it up before his eyes for scrutiny. Cold. Metal. Smelled faintly familiar…  
  
//Gunpowder. A shell-casing. Handgun?// He frowned at it, examining the marks, faint as they were, on the brass shell. //Alliance…//  
  
Glancing up, he found Treize and Sally gazing at him with interest—especially focused on what lay in his hands.  
  
"How did they die?" Duo asked Treize quietly. //He knows. He knows what happened here. And, likely, why.// Deathscythe's pilot was certain of that as he stared firmly into those blue eyes. //And you regret it, too, right, Treize? It bothers you that your kin—Dermail—gave the order for such a horrible thing.//  
  
"I'd like to know, too," Sally added very softly, voice nearly a whisper.  
  
Treize bowed his head over his hands, closing his eyes. "Very well… A section of Alliance military stormed the palace. They shot the King and Queen, and anyone else they came across. But you saw the palace—it's huge, easy to just get lost on the grounds… Inside was equally easy to be lost in. So the troops set fire to the main floor once they cleared it—and took up a perimeter around it. And shot any who tried to escape the flames."  
  
Duo could hear Zechs's words echo in his head… //"I /know/ this tactic… I know it well." Flushing people into a killing gauntlet. Did you witness the soldiers making their perimeter?//  
  
Sally blinked, then frowned. "Everyone? I thought… Well, the Peacecrafts were said to be a rather large family…"  
  
Treize nodded firmly without cracking an eye. "Everyone. Even the two royal children—who were barely old enough to walk."  
  
"Oh God," Sally whispered, hand going to her mouth as if she were about to be sick.  
  
Duo stared down at the shell in his hand, feeling a pang of sorrow. //I wonder if the bullet from this killed someone that day. The King, perhaps. A child, maybe… Cold blood… How could they?!? How could they be so heartless, those soldiers? I'd have rebelled against my superiors!//  
  
"They waited until the fire had grown enough that nobody likely could have stayed in it and lived… then left the area," Treize continued. "That's when they strafed the whole town with bombs, leveling almost everything, destroying the evidence… Even as you said, Miss Noin. Townsfolk, already drawn outdoors by the confusion and horror of the events at the palace, barely escaped. Many did not escape with their lives… It was a terrible tragedy. The Alliance returned the next day to 'make order and protect the people of Sanc'… Of course, very few knew they themselves were responsible—perhaps only those involved in it knew that for a fact. There were no eyewitnesses from the events at the palace, after all…"  
  
"Then how do /you/ know what happened there?" Duo demanded sharply. //Obviously word got out somehow! Zechs /must/ have seen! That's the only explanation for why he's so dead set on destroying them! He /must/ be an eyewitness of what the Alliance did!//  
  
Treize's eyes opened, and he glared at Duo. "My whole family has been leaders of the military, Duo. Secrets that are for the leader's ears only were passed down where I could easily hear them…" Then, surprisingly, his eyes tore away to look out the window guiltily. "My father heard the news the night it happened… He was furious, and called a lot that night—including to Duke Dermail, who admitted that he ordered it… 'To silence that damn man and keep the rest of that annoying meddling family out of the way of progress for good this time,' he said," the dignified man ended bitterly.  
  
Sally eyed him warily. "You seem to disapprove of what he did…"  
  
//She's testing him… Probably not certain he's a good guy,// Duo decided. //You know… I like this Sally person!//  
  
Treize sighed quietly. "It's one thing to kill the man who opposes you… but another to wipe out a whole ancient lineage and a country to boot… and children with them. Too many innocent lives died that night, and for /nothing/… No, I don't approve. I think if anyone is truly human, they can't accept that kind of decision… and I assure you, Miss Po, I am quite human." He looked out of the corner of his eyes at her blandly.  
  
//Hey, that's progress. You're getting a /little/ less stuck-up, General. Are we rubbing off on you, maybe?// Duo chuckled to himself. "Are you /sure/, Treize?" he asked mischievously, mouth cracking into a broad grin. "You tend to act rather—"  
  
"Modest?" Treize supplied playfully, smiling slowly at them.  
  
"Pompous?" Sally tried, smirking.  
  
"Annoying?" Duo mimicked.  
  
"Aloof," Noin offered from the driving seat, sounding certain.  
  
The ex-Oz leader just sighed in mock surrender, a smile tugging his lips. "Outvoted. A shame."  
  
Duo shook his head, smirking, and settled back in the seat, to stare at the shell in his hand… which stole that smile, replacing it with a sad, thoughtful expression.  
  
//Who were you, Zechs? How did you learn so much about events back then? How much did you witness? Were you like me—simply lucky to be in the wrong place at the terrible time, and first to find the results? These tantalizing hints are getting too much. I need to end this mystery before the curiosity eats me alive!//  
  
Turning the casing over between his fingers nimbly, Duo nodded slightly to himself, confirming his resolve to find answers if nobody would give them to him voluntarily. //Fine, I take the harder route. I know just who to turn to for help, too…//  
  
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To be continued.  
  
Thanks for reviewing, guys! Glad you're enjoying it. My main problem is picking one way out of many for Dermail to die. It'll have to be simple, I fear. Knife, bullet, fall from a height… Hrm, how to choose, how to choose… suggestions?  
  
Zechs is angry—at himself, and at having to use the family "garage" for weapons of war. He's not being purposely rude. He's being merely a kid and having a minor temper tantrum. 


	18. Sort Out This Confusion

That's Childish, So Childish. . .  
  
Chapter Eighteen: Sort Out This Confusion. . .  
  
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Disclaimer--I don't own GW, nor the song this and the past couple titles are from ("One And One Make Five" is by the Petshop Boys).  
  
Warnings--A mild chapter. Kinda. Some characters undergo uncomfortable situations, but nothing permanent. But lilies deserve warning--I know that from personal experience!  
  
What can I say? Zechs keeps his word. Life ends up very interesting in Sanc. . . much to the chagrin of the new arrivals and everyone else already residing at the palace.  
  
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Miri sauntered--yes, sauntered--into the servants' quarters of the new palace (really the home of the last Oz general stationed in Sanc) with a bounce in his step despite the time of day. Or, rather, night. Midnight, to be precise. Nobody else was up. Nobody knew he had just set his bag into one of the smaller rooms at the end of the wing. Fewer knew /why/.  
  
Smugly, the boy collected a mugful of coffee before he flopped into a chair and set his feet up on the table, lounging over the armrest. //Thank God for Noin and credit cards. . . // he thought with a slow smile, flipping the "borrowed" bit of plastic out of his pocket to admire before tucking it back into his pocket. //They'll find their gifts in the morning. . . or the results of them, anyway.//  
  
A faint yelp and heavy thud echoed down the hall, shortly followed by the faintest of gurgling sounds, then a bright curse and another heavy thud.  
  
//Or, maybe before then.// Miri blew on his coffee gently, smiling tiredly but expectantly at the doorway to the hall.  
  
In a couple minutes, Duo appeared, bedraggled and messy and rubbing his throat and shins alternately with each limping step he took, eyes warily scanning the doorjamb before he stepped through. Then his eyes focused on the reason the light was on in the small kitchen. . . And Duo frowned.  
  
Zechs blinked innocently at him, and smiled, trying to look cute. //I wonder if I can use this notion of Noin's to my advantage against upset Gundam pilots. . . //  
  
Duo groaned, looking heavenward, and ambled to the other side of the small table to collapse into a chair. "That was /not/ a good way to wake up, Zechs," he complained.  
  
Miri shrugged slightly. //I was nice to /you/. . . // "You ran into it of your own accord," he pointed out. Icy eyes laughed, though their owner refrained from doing so out loud. "Thrice, in fact."  
  
A rough, rueful laugh answered that. "Guess so," Duo snorted, rubbing his throat again. "But who'd expect trip wires--and throat ones--in a peaceful kingdom's palace?"  
  
Zechs smiled with mock-sadness and shook his head, looking into his coffee. "You weren't in one before, so you shouldn't assume that just because it's a peaceful place, that you're safe."  
  
Another moan, as Duo ran a hand through his bangs to brush them out of tired eyes. "Just get me some coffee, kid. I'm not awake enough for this."  
  
//If only you knew, Duo. . . The old palace was hardly "peaceful" with so many kin running about. . . // With a quiet chuckle, Miri set his own mug down and leaned back to toss another mug under the dispenser behind him. "Why are you awake at all?"  
  
Duo shrugged, rubbing bleary eyes. "Nightmares," he murmured.  
  
//Nightmares? From what?// Zechs glanced back at the braided Gundam pilot curiously, then collected the full mug and slid it across the table to the young man. "Nightmares about what?" he asked, interested.  
  
Deathscythe's pilot took a long pull on the steaming coffee before replying. "Maxwell Church. I was the only survivor, you see. It killed. . . everyone I cared about." Staring into the dark liquid between his hands, Duo let that linger in the air, lost to thought.  
  
Miri sank back in his seat, eyes wide with surprise, and studied Duo through his long pale bangs. //Maxwell Church. . . ? The massacre? I. . . I remember hearing about it--feeling sorry for the people, killed like my own family. Guess they were /his/ family. . . // "I'm sorry," he offered quietly, his sympathy for the taking.  
  
Duo shook his head slightly. "Nothing for you to be sorry for. It's just. . . Well, I was an orphan on L2, and they kind of took me in when nobody else wanted me. And kept me, too." He chuckled softly at an old memory, and tugged his braid from behind his back. "Sister Helen taught me to braid all this, even. . . But then the rebels tried to hide in the church, and I told them I'd get them a mobile suit if that was the only way they'd leave. . . But by the time I got back with it, the place was a ruin, and everyone. . . Everyone was dead. . ." He choked up, and bent his head over his coffee until his mussed hair hid his face.  
  
//They killed his family, too. . . the Alliance,// Zechs mused, heart twisting in anger and sympathetic pain. "And later you became a Gundam pilot. . . ?" he asked gently.  
  
Again the braided pilot shrugged. "Yeah, well, that was more an accident than design. I thought, 'Better me than someone who'll take out innocents,'" Duo admitted a touch shyly, peeking up hesitantly. "Besides. . . I helped build Deathscythe--and I kind of like the big thing. It was pilot it, or blow it up."  
  
//I can understand that. . . It's very like you, Duo.// Nodding quietly, Zechs picked up his own coffee and sipped slowly before trying, "What brought the memories up?"  
  
"You've seen this place," Duo sighed, flinging an arm out in a broad sweep. "Those ruins of the old palace? They remind me of. . . of the church."  
  
//That makes sense. . . I wish they didn't remain, but who has the guts to clean it up? Not me, definitely. Too many memories. . . Too many ties. . . // Zechs stared into his own coffee, and sighed quietly. "I'm sorry, Duo--it wasn't nice of me to dig up bad images for you."  
  
A hand waved generally at the air. "Hey, it's all right. Bad memories don't need digging to resurface--they just do it on their own," Duo dismissed. "So. . . Other than the wires across my doors, what should I expect in the morning in the way of horrors and screams?" Dark blue eyes full of mischief grinned from beneath coppery bangs.  
  
//Good choice of subject to change to--something uplifting.// Miri smirked again and set his coffee down carefully. "You found all you will find. . . for now. For yourself, anyway."  
  
Deathscythe's pilot groaned, and slapped a hand over his eyes. "Oh, no. Don't tell me you pulled something on /Heero/, of all people. . . ! Or Quatre--the Maganacs will /kill/ you! Or turn your Tallgeese into a can opener!"  
  
Zechs nodded with a slow, content smile. //Heero, Quatre, Trowa, the Maganacs, Noin. . . you. . . Treize, /again/. . . //  
  
Duo blinked at him, then laughed, shaking his head and an admonishing finger at the boy. "You're crazy! They'll pull the walls down around your ears, and /then/ what will we protect here? Not to mention /how/--mobile suits aren't easy to damage with can openers. . ."  
  
Miri laughed softly. "I didn't do anything as bad as I did to Treize earlier. . ." //For which he's probably thankful. . . //  
  
"What did you do this time, then? Not red hair--I can't see Trowa as a strawberry blonde. . ."  
  
Zechs smirked. "Well, no, not red hair. . . And not Trowa. . . But Quatre and the Maganacs will be rather noticeable from miles away. . ." //Poor things. . . // Though he felt absolutely no remorse. //They could hardly stop laughing the whole time.//  
  
Duo's expression twisted into a mix of consternation and curiosity. "How?"  
  
"Smell."  
  
The Gundam pilot groaned, cringing in his seat. "Not the glue again!"  
  
Miri laughed cheerfully, waving his free hand for Duo to relax. //I wasn't /that/ mean!// "Oh, no, no, not that! They'll smell pretty good, actually. . . after lily-scented shampoo, lily-scented conditioner, lily- scented hair-gel, lily-scented soap, lily-scented shaving cream, lily- scented aftershave, lily-scented hand moisturizer. . . and, of course, the 5 am delivery of a dozen flowers to their separate rooms. Lilies, of course."  
  
Dark blue eyes blinked at him. "Lilies?" Duo asked, confused.  
  
//Noin's last little prank gave me the idea. How she got someone to switch my toiletries to lilac scented ones last April Fool's still amazes me. Of course, after that, half the Alliance's generals began calling me "Treize's boy". . . // Nonchalantly, the boy answered, "Oh, over the years you pick up a few things. Such as that the lily has the most annoyingly-powerful and pervasive scent you could ever find in a flower. . . I left a note to the staff about where Noin and I hid the gas masks when we were last here, though, so they aren't overcome during the flower delivery."  
  
Duo choked on his coffee, which he'd just brought to his lips. "Hey, what about /us/?!? We're going to end up in the same room as them too, you know!"  
  
//Got that covered.// "Masks are basement floor, second storage room, third shelf on the right. Blame Noin for the idea--she pulled a similar prank on me last spring."  
  
Sighing, Duo ran a hand through his bangs and gazed resignedly into his coffee, then chuckled. "I guess that must have been embarrassing. . ."  
  
Zechs shrugged, and sipped his coffee before admitting, "It's more embarrassing if you acknowledge something's wrong. It started a few wild rumors, though. . ." //Like me and Treize as a couple. . . Whoever started that one was really unobservant! He had already seduced a dozen nurses, for heaven's sake!//  
  
"Well, speaking of Noin. . . she escaped this mess, right?"  
  
A faint smirk echoed icy blue eyes that flicked up from the coffee. "Hardly." //She wishes. . . //  
  
Duo sighed again, smiling helplessly. "And what did you do to her, then?"  
  
"Give her something cute." Zechs grinned evilly.  
  
He could just see mental gears whirring as Duo mulled how something cute could be repulsive to the stolid woman who practically hugged the stuffing out of the boy earlier.  
  
"Cute? Like. . . what?" Duo tried hesitantly, as if not certain he wanted an answer.  
  
//There's cute, then there's scary. It's only fair, though.// "As in bright pink daisies with big smiley-faces on them." Zechs smiled dreamily as he pictured his handiwork again in his mind. "On the shower-curtains, floor mats, lining the tub and shower-stall, tile floor, towels, tissues, toilette-paper. . . Did you know they have those rubber bathtub-liners made in the shape of overly-cheerful daisies, too? In bright pink, to boot."  
  
"You really know how to kill a theme."  
  
"Overkill is rather the point, you know. . . Hopefully she'll have second thoughts about calling me 'cute' after this, though." Reaching behind his seat, Zechs began refilling his mug. "Of course, I think those motion- triggered singing pink daisies on the bathroom counter may scare her out of her rooms entirely, screaming. . . That may have been too much. Or maybe it's the crowning achievement. I was surprised to find those--but I couldn't resist."  
  
Duo made a gagging sound. "Remind me not to piss you off anytime soon. How'd you get all this done? And /still/ have time to booby-trap my room and do whatever you did to Heero and Trowa?"  
  
"And Treize. . . again," Miri added smugly. "Well, if you want to know, the staff here are on my side. Not Noin's, not Princess Relena's, but mine. We go back to well before I knew Treize. Some of them even played foster-kin to me for a bit. Besides which--I recommended them for these jobs." //In part because I could entrust Relena's safety to them, and Pagan knows them all. . . Whatever would Sanc do without Pagan's help? He saves Relena, practically bodyguards her for her whole life, uses his connections to help me out--his kin from the next five countries came to help staff this place after Sanc was freed. The man's got to be memorialized after this.//  
  
Duo's eyebrows lifted, and his mouth tilted in an incredulous expression-- then sank into a resigned but cheerful laugh. "Good God, we really don't stand much of a chance here, do we? Noin said this is your home turf-- guess it's that home team advantage--literally!"  
  
Zechs spread his hands philosophically. "In any case, your tripwires didn't take long to set up. Gluing Treize's boots to the ceiling took longer. . ." He sighed wistfully. //That was /not/ easy.// "I miss being tall. Do you know how hard it is to maneuver a ladder in silence? I gave up on it after two feet--it's too heavy for me to carry far like this. Had to do it a different way."  
  
Duo chuckled quietly, and finished the last of his coffee. "What about Trowa and Heero, then?"  
  
Miri sipped his second cup of coffee with a slight smirk. "Trowa has roommates now. I let the local house cats, a couple hedgehogs, and a rabbit take his clothes drawers, and a few garden snakes got his boots as temporary residences. As for Heero. . . well, he'll have an interesting time leaving his room. I secured the doors and windows from outside with lock, key, glue, duct tape, and the occasionally wedged chair or table or solid steel bar." //I did leave him that note about putting the door back in place when he decided to leave the room, didn't I? I /think/ I left it on the reception-room table for his quarters. . . //  
  
"And Sally? You probably made her back out of the deal to help you, you know. . . ," Duo sighed, making a face. "It'll be a pain to get another doctor. . ."  
  
//Sally?// Zechs shook his head slowly in denial, smiling gently. "I spared her," he admitted.  
  
Duo blinked, then glared. "What? /Why/?"  
  
"Because she didn't laugh at me, at any time. . . /yet/, anyway. That /is/ why I pulled all this on all of you." //You don't mess with the Lightening Count. Got a public reputation to maintain here, you know.// Contentedly, the pale-haired boy sank back in his seat with mug in hand, blinking with mischievous innocence.  
  
Deathscythe's pilot just groaned. "You know this is going to mean war, don't you?"  
  
"You guys don't stand a chance. Not against guerilla tactics with the local populace on /my/ side. . ."  
  
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Bright and early in the morning, something banged heavily--on a wall? The whole building vibrated. It set off a round of bellows and shrieks from the western wing of the palace, and the sound of something cheerfully singing in mechanical voices, "You Are My Sunshine". Luckily, wise folks had retired after taking precautions--like stuffing cotton in their ears.  
  
"ZECHS! Omai o korosu!"  
  
"Kid, that Tallgeese of yours is going to be a /coffee machine/ by nightfall!"  
  
"Zechs?!? Where the heck did you /find/ all this? This alone would finish my Christmas shopping for my sisters for a whole /two years/!"  
  
"Can someone lend me some clean clothes? The rabbit had an accident--I think the cats scared it. . ."  
  
"ZECHS!!! You're going to /wish/ the lilac-thing was /all/ I did to you!"  
  
"Why the /hell/ didn't I court-martial you while I had the chance?"  
  
"Omai o /korosu/!"  
  
"Hey, Rashid, Trowa, I'd offer some of my spare stuff, but unless you guys /really/ like pink. . ."  
  
"Oh stop it, Heero, you never carry that threat out. . ."  
  
"No thanks, Miss Noin!!!" returned a couple of terrified voices.  
  
"Duo, leave him alone--he's almost breaking down the walls. I think--I think--ACHOOOOO!"  
  
"Bless you, Master Quatre!" came a chorus.  
  
"I can't take this anymore--die you horrible things, die!" Gunfire at close range immediately followed, killing the music as well.  
  
"Noin, I commend you. You don't happen to have a spare pair of boots hanging around, do you?"  
  
"Ah! That stupid cat /bit/ me!"  
  
"Only if you like pink daisies, General!"  
  
"Trowa, are you--AH-AHHH-ACHOO!"  
  
"Bless you!" The chorus included others this time.  
  
"Sorry, Noin--I wouldn't wear that if /Zechs/ forced it on me."  
  
"Omai o korosu!!!"  
  
"That's drastic, Heero."  
  
"Quatre, the only reason I agree with you is because that would be too merciful for him."  
  
"Guys, I'm telling you, he's got the home-town advantage. . ."  
  
"Trust me, I can think of /something/. I got him before!"  
  
"Mission accepted!"  
  
"Noin. . . I think I'm going to bow out of this before he does worse to my hair, thank you. And I don't mean just that on my head. You didn't see the glue incident, I expect."  
  
"Honestly, I actually like this, though I think my sisters--AH-AHHHHHHH--my sisters would appreciate it--ACHOOOOO!--more than me."  
  
"General, you are a wimp."  
  
"Thank you, Noin. I prefer to think of it as a tactical retreat."  
  
"Master Quatre. . . How can you /like/ reeking like this?!?"  
  
"I don't suppose one of you are willing to come by here, Quatre, Mister Rashid? Maybe the overpowering smell will /get these damn animals off my bed/!!!"  
  
"Do we really smell that strongly, Rashid? I think I'm a bit stuffed up from all the pollen. . ."  
  
"Duo, are you all right? You're actually quiet!"  
  
The other voices stopped, equally curious.  
  
"Um, guys, I'm a bit busy putting Flexall-454 on all the damn bruises. . ."  
  
"Did he get /everyone/?!?"  
  
"I think I'll follow Treize's example and bow out, guys."  
  
"We're with you, Master Quatre!" returned a familiar chorus.  
  
"I'm rather inclined to join you two, Heero, Miss Noin."  
  
"Glad to have you aboard, Trowa."  
  
"What about you, Duo?"  
  
"My throat hurts. . ."  
  
"Either you're with us or you're against us. This is war, Duo."  
  
"Hell, Heero--/definitely/ out! I may be crazy, but I'm not suicidal like you!"  
  
"Home turf advantage counts for nil, Duo--trust me, I've played this game with him before."  
  
"I would rethink that here, Noin. . ."  
  
"Treize, he would /never/ use. . . !"  
  
"I think he already /is/ using it."  
  
A pause. "Oh," ventured the stunned reply. Then. . . "That explains a lot."  
  
"What are you two talking about?"  
  
"Sorry, Heero. . . I think you're on your own in this!"  
  
"Trowa?"  
  
"I think I'll also stay out--until more information is available."  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Speaking of the twerp--I'm surprised not to hear him laughing uproariously right now!"  
  
"I think he went to bed."  
  
"How do you know, Duo?"  
  
"I got up for a midnight snack. Tripped a half dozen times getting out of bed, and again getting /into/ bed, and then yet /again/ after I woke up and forgot they were still there. . ."  
  
"You didn't see what he was doing?!?"  
  
"Do you think a kid his size could do all this on his own in one night?"  
  
A long silence.  
  
"Mission aborted. . . for now."  
  
"Smart man."  
  
"Shut up, Kushrenada. And someone get me a crowbar."  
  
A couple chuckles. . .  
  
"Heeeerooo?" A distant, uncertain, young feminine call.  
  
"And /hurry/!"  
  
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By noon, the party had convened in the tight confines of the staff's kitchen, except for Miss Noin, who had to attend Relena.  
  
//And Zechs. Where is he /now/? I hope to God he's still asleep. . . Any more pranks, and I think this alliance will forget Romefeller and try for /his/ throat!// Duo chuckled to himself, shaking his head. //I'm not sure the staff can save him then.//  
  
Pagan, the old butler, stood by the door, boxing everyone in the tight confines of the room like the old English sheepdog he resembled with those shaggy brows and bushy moustache. Even as Duo glanced at him, the old man cleared his throat, drawing attention. "Gentlemen, I have come to inform you that as we speak, Miss Noin is conferring with Miss Relena on your behalf. I'm afraid there is no way to gently introduce you to the young gentlemen and ladies who have come to learn about the Perfect Peace Principle, as all the uproar this morning has begun a few rumors. . . ," he explained calmly.  
  
//This guy would probably find a nice way to introduce an assassination-- he's too calm for this!// Smiling wryly, Duo rested his head on his hand and sipped his coffee.  
  
"Miss Relena seems to have recognized a certain voice among you--or perhaps a certain turn of words--and is quite adamant that Heero has arrived. As there is no dissuading this, and it is the truth, I'm certain Miss Noin has confirmed it for her by now," Pagan continued.  
  
Heero closed his eyes and sighed, slouching back in his chair. Earlier, nobody had wanted to argue with the irate Perfect Soldier--and Quatre had hastily surrendered it for the sake of avoiding blood in the staff's kitchen.  
  
Everyone else looked pointedly at Heero--though most smiled. Duo smothered a snicker. //She'd have noticed sooner or later, Heero. Just go deliver the damn letter and get it over with!//  
  
"Well, that just means we propose our idea to her sooner rather than later," Quatre piped up cheerfully.  
  
"Which is probably for the best," a casually-dressed Treize murmured, slouching with relief. "Soonest begun, soonest I can go to Luxemburg with my men to upgrade our suits and claim your scientists."  
  
"One of us is going with you," Trowa stated quietly but firmly, busily tying twine about his borrowed boots to keep them on his legs.  
  
//Oh, definitely!// Duo decided, agreeing wholeheartedly. //Do you think they'd trust Oz as far as they could kick a Gundam?//  
  
Spreading his hands, the ex-Oz general chuckled. "I didn't intend to leave without one of you, at least. You pilots are the only ones they would trust, and so the best choices for parleying with them."  
  
Grinning, Duo ducked his expression back into his coffee mug. //Smart, General, smart. Smart answer, too! Guess you /are/ one of us now!//  
  
Trowa considered the man's words briefly, then nodded in silent acceptance.  
  
Again, Pagan cleared his throat. "I'm afraid your departure may need to be slightly delayed, Master Treize."  
  
//Huh?// Duo frowned, setting cup down again with coffee untasted. //Something go wrong?//  
  
Treize's left eyebrow arched for his hairline, and his expression echoed the feelings of those present. "Oh?" he stated in a dignified manner, challenging the old butler.  
  
Pagan stood unfazed. In fact, he didn't seem to catch Treize's sarcastic tone, nor see the challenging gleam in those blue eyes. Maybe he couldn't see any more than a sheepdog? But his seemingly-innocent answer made Duo scrunch his nose in confusion.  
  
"Miss Dorothy is here, Sir. Sent by her grandfather, we believe."  
  
Groaning, Treize covered his eyes with one hand.  
  
//What does /that/ mean? Who's Dorothy? Or her grandfather?// Duo joined the numerous stares being directed at the former Oz leader. "Who's she?" he asked sharply, suspicious.  
  
"Who is her grandfather?" Heero added demandingly.  
  
Pagan remained silent and unmoving as a statue, as a good butler should, leaving the answers to Treize, whose expression proclaimed his reluctance to expound on the topic.  
  
The stares and waiting tension in the room began to accumulate. Rashid glowered from his corner. Quatre leaned against a counter patiently, smiling gently. Heero glared from his seat as if to dump all his day's frustrations on his former enemy. Trowa simply sat still at a tiny side- table and stared at the rest of the room like a painted portrait of a man. Sally, leaning against the wall by Rashid, smiled with slow amusement and kind eyes on the scene.  
  
Duo merely stared grimly at Treize. //Come on, talk. Clearly it has something to do with you. Time to 'fess up some of those things you and Zechs tell each other but keep from the rest of us!//  
  
After a long, weary sigh, Treize finally looked up. "Dorothy," he stated glumly, "is my cousin. Her grandfather, however, is the same Duke Dermail who we are all set to destroy. Not that she likes him a great deal--but she is the sort who enjoyed intrigue and sowing the seeds of conflict, so she is undoubtedly spying for him. Which means I have to convert her to our side. . ."  
  
Heero's eyes narrowed. "Can you?" he asked firmly.  
  
"Why would she accept? And what would keep her from betraying both sides? From what you say--she /is/ the type to do that, just for the fun of it," Trowa contributed.  
  
Treize's gaze sank down, and his eyes narrowed sharply at the table's surface. "I've always been a favorite of hers, more so than most of our family. Nor is she blind to her grandfather's faults. But if I show and tell her what he did to Zechs. . . I think that would bind her to our side. She's very forward--she would bluntly state what role she intends to take in this conflict, and you can relay on her word."  
  
Scratching his head, Duo considered the ceiling's stucco surface intently, as if someone had written something vital up there. //I don't know. . . She sounds tricky.//  
  
"Speaking of Zechs. . . Where is he?" Sally inquired quietly.  
  
Duo perked up sharply. //Yeah, I want to know, too!//  
  
"Young Master Zechs," Pagan began calmly, "has decided to sleep in, as we informed him of Miss Dorothy's presence when he arrived."  
  
"Yes, she'd recognize him at first glance," Treize murmured grimly. "They grew up together. It makes sense that he'd choose to even avoid the halls, on the slightest chance that she reports him to Duke Dermail. /He/ gave the orders for Zechs's recent imprisonment, after all."  
  
//But. . . this morning we. . . // Duo shuddered. "Ah. . . we all screamed at him this morning, remember? What if she heard us?" he asked, fear melting heavily in the middle of his stomach.  
  
Silence blossomed. Treize's eyes widened slowly, staring into space.  
  
"Shit." The ex-Oz general's curse was quiet, yet in the silence it carried far, only to be drowned out the next second by the man leaping to his feet and knocking his chair over. "Where is she, Pagan? I have to catch her before she reports, or he'll send someone to finish Zechs's sentence for him!"  
  
//Oh damn. . . // Duo slid to his feet, seeing Heero doing likewise-and pulling out his gun. //If she /has/ reported. . . !//  
  
For the slightest instant, Pagan's dark eyes were visible beneath shaggy brows. "East sunroom, Sir," he reported swiftly. "She is under our surveillance--hasn't communicated with anyone yet--"  
  
Treize had already fled out the door past the man, half-jogging.  
  
"I'll cover him," Trowa offered, having escaped his cramped table by the door to be the second through it. Then he was gone in the older man's wake.  
  
//I'm after Zechs! If she /has/ reported, he might have assassins after him any second!// Pulling his own gun as he moved to follow Trowa, Duo called, "I'll go check on the kid!"  
  
"Mission accepted," Heero announced, accepting the same duty with unrelenting finality, striding at Duo's heels.  
  
"Rashid and I'll go to the hangar, then--make sure everything's in order if needed for a strike attack," Quatre stated, nodding worried acceptance.  
  
//Thanks, Heero--good to have you on my side.// "Where's he at, Pagan?" duo demanded quickly, pausing by the old man. . . who looked amazingly frightened.  
  
For once, Pagan's calm was ruffled--he seemed to be sweating a bit heavily, his dark eyes barely visible, when Duo scrutinized him. But he answered as quickly as a soldier reporting for duty, "End of the wing, this floor, last door on the left by the stairs."  
  
A single acknowledging nod from both Gundam pilots, then the pair were running down the hall. . .  
  
//I hope Zechs is alright. . . // Duo glanced at Heero's determined, stoic face, and grunted, grimacing. "Why do I feel like everyone in this place knows who Zechs is, but us?" he asked rhetorically.  
  
Heero eyed him sharply. "Then it's time we found out, too."  
  
Eyes narrowing on the end of the wing, far ahead, Duo decided determinedly, //After we check on him. . . Then we get cracking, Heero. Our ignorance might kill us soon!//  
  
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To be continued.  
  
Sorry-takes longer to get more than one series progressing at the same time, guys. ;) 


	19. They Don't Understand Your Sense Of Humo...

That's Childish, So Childish. . .  
  
Chapter Nineteen: They Don't Understand Your Sense Of Humor Like I Do  
  
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Disclaimer--Don't own it, don't seem likely to anytime soon, either. . .  
  
Warnings--Dorothy. Yeah, she's a bit of a nut, tho I'm nice to her. A touch of the angst again--but it's nothing terribly sad. You've already endured worse.  
  
Duo and Heero find Zechs. Treize chats with Dorothy. Sally talks to Wufei, who doesn't seem the most thrilled about what's going on. Can you blame him?  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Kneeling before the door, Duo hastily picked away at the lock with his pin, muttering softly under his breath. //No, you couldn't stop five seconds to get the damn keys from Pagan--you had to run here like a fool. . . //  
  
"There," he breathed, hearing the tumblers click into place finally. Not that it had taken him long, but in his anxiety, it sure felt that way!  
  
Before Duo could surge back to his feet, Heero had reached for the door latch and turned, quietly opening the door and forcing Duo to half-crawl, half-stagger out of the way of the door's swing. Gun cocked, Wing's pilot crept into the room first, vanishing from view. Scrambling, Duo whipped out his own weapon and hurried after, ears perked the instant he stepped through the doorway.  
  
//He wouldn't booby-trap his own room, would he. . . ?// Deathscythe's pilot wondered with a hint of concern. //I hope not. Or this is going to be /very/ amusing for him. . . Or anyone else here. I hope he's alright. . . //  
  
The place was simple, smaller than what Duo himself had been given. The sitting room was small, more of a corridor with a coat closet and mirror, and openings to a compact bedroom on one side, with a matching doorway to a study of sorts in the opposing direction. Poking his head around the corner into the small quarters, Duo caught a glimpse of black spandex, and glided closer, into the sitting room. . .  
  
Heero had stopped at the doorway of the bedroom, which stood open, gaping. The bed wasn't terribly large--according to all rumors concerning the former Zechs Marquise, he probably wouldn't have been able to fit on this compact thing without a couple below-the-knee amputations. A matching dresser with a boring lamp and a mirror sat beside it as complacently as furniture could possibly sit. The bed was in disarray, though-the bottom sheets wrinkled, the pillow pounded to a pulp, and a blanket trailed over the corner, half-crumpled, threatening to fall to the floor at the slightest breath. A small bath stood just beyond, door wide open for them to view the racks of tidily arranged towels, a crystal-clear shower-stall, and the fact that otherwise it barely had enough space to hold a wet dog.  
  
But there was no occupant.  
  
//Oh. . . damn. This can't be good,// Duo decided, lifting his eyes to meet Heero's.  
  
The Perfect Soldier frowned, then jerked his head towards the other room in silent signal before creeping towards /that/ beaconing entrance.  
  
//Don't be dead, kid. I'll never forgive us!// Duo trailed after, gritting his teeth worriedly. //And on second thought. . . don't be working on another prank or we won't forgive /you/!!!//  
  
Poking his head through the other door, Heero relaxed abruptly, putting the safety back on his gun with a click, letting weapon and hand drop to his side.  
  
Lowering his own weapon, Duo strode into the room after his fellow Gundam pilot, glancing about. //Is he here. . . ?//  
  
A sofa, a moderate TV sitting on a cabinet containing a stereo and an old VCR/DVD player, a plush rocking-chair by the sunny window with an untidy mound of rumpled throws on it. . .  
  
//I guess not.// Puffing a sigh, Duo clicked the safety on his gun as well, tucking it back into the back of his belt and scratching his head. "Damn. . ." he murmured. "Now what?"  
  
"Hn," Heero grunted agreeably, going over to the window and peering out. "Suggestions?" Wing's pilot asked.  
  
Smiling wryly, Duo shook his head. //You look utterly at a loss, Heero, and this is a first!// It was amusing to watch, a rare moment, though Duo wished he could savor it. Worry had begun chewing his stomach from the inside out. //I'm going to get ulcers like this. . . How did Kushrenada ever manage with this kid?//  
  
The throw-rugs stirred slightly, and the chair they were on rocked ever-so- faintly.  
  
Heero jumped as if he'd seen a ghost, backing away from the pile as if expecting it to blow up in his face at any second. "Zechs?" he asked warily, uncertainly of the mound.  
  
No answer was forthcoming.  
  
Cautiously, Duo stepped closer to the moving pile, frowning as he peered closer. Yes, a few stray strands of shimmering blonde mingled in that tangle, but everything else was well wrapped, hidden from view. Cozily so, in the warm sunlight and soft chair.  
  
//Why would he sleep /here/?// A hand moved to touch-but withdrew within a few inches of that goal, as Duo winced, remembering. //I'd better not.//  
  
Heero looked at him quizzically. "You won't wake him?"  
  
Shaking his head, Duo could feel his braid slapping his shoulders. "No-- you didn't see him when Quatre and I did it last time. You'd have thought that touch scalded him. . . or that I was some form of venomous fanged nightmare, from the way he looked at me after."  
  
"Hn. . . Well, he looks alright," Heero decided, tilting his head to one side as he scrutinized the pile on the rocking chair.  
  
//How can you tell?// Duo snorted. "How can he look alright if all we can see are a few /hairs/?"  
  
"Then wake him up."  
  
"Why don't /you/?"  
  
"Me?" Heero glared at Duo as if he had suggested toilette-papering Wing. "I'm his enemy!"  
  
Duo snorted, hands on hips. //Oh come /on/, you /can't/ be that afraid of him!// "Not anymore!" he pointed out sharply. "We're all allies in this, remember?"  
  
Heero looked back at the pile of throw-rugs and blonde hair in time to catch a glimpse of a pale lock falling free of the soft cloth like a trickle of white lava from the top of the small mound. After a moment, he griped, "Why do /I/ always get the hazardous tasks in this alliance. . . ?"  
  
//Because your pretense of having no buttons just makes them easier for us to find--and push?// Duo hazarded silently, smirking. //At least if Zechs knees one of us, it won't be /my/ vitals. You're sterner stuff. You can re-set your own bones, after all.// "Come on, Heero--you know we all love you. He's a kid, remember? He doesn't even have a gun."  
  
"You're just getting me back for using parts of Deathscythe to fix Wing." But Heero reached out an uncertain hand to poke the bundle on the rocking chair.  
  
The pile of throws jerked, shifted, and wriggled before he ever made contact, rearranging itself. . .  
  
"I didn't do /anything/," Heero warned, pulling back warily and eyeing Duo scathingly, to ward off comments.  
  
Lifting his hands in a warding off gesture, Duo chuckled quietly. "I know, I know!"  
  
The mound of soft blankets finally settled down again, this time with the boy's head visible, resting on the arm of the padded rocking chair, a corner of the comforters forming a partial hood over his bright hair, protecting him from the sun. As they watched, the boy sighed softly, hands clenched around the edges of the blanket and curled under his chin, the rest of him rolled up in the protective but snug embrace of blankets. Long bangs tickled at his nose, but failed to catch his attention.  
  
The one visible ear had cotton gleaming in it. /Lots/ of cotton.  
  
//Well I'll be. . . // "No wonder he didn't comment this morning, amid all that noise," Duo murmured, scratching the back of his head. "He never heard a thing!"  
  
"Hn. . ." Heero grunted, frowning a bit, and stepped closer to the boy, looking down at the relaxed face of that blanket-wrapped form a moment before tucking his gun into hiding and turning sharply to go. "Let's go."  
  
//Huh?// Duo looked after Heero curiously, then back at the boy, confused, as his fellow Gundam pilot strode from the room. //What. . . ?//  
  
"Let him sleep," Heero added without turning.  
  
Then Heero was gone, the front door clicking shut behind him.  
  
Daringly, and wondering what had interested Heero so much, Duo walked around to stand where the other pilot had been, seeking the same vantage point, looking down at Zechs only a foot away, oblivious to all the commotion. //What did he see?//  
  
Though Zechs was relaxed and definitely asleep, curled in that defensive ball, there was a tightness to his features, something Duo couldn't name, though he'd seen it before on others. Uncertain, uncomfortable dreams-- they left their mark in that tension.  
  
Then Duo saw, too: a faint glossiness on the boy's visible cheek.  
  
Tear-tracks.  
  
//Dry tracks. . . He must have cried himself to sleep,// Duo surmised sadly, a hand straying on its own to brush teasing bangs away. His hand froze mid-brushstroke as he caught a glimpse of something else. . . almost lost in the blankets, tucked against the youth's chest and clenched close in those blanket-wrapped fists. . .  
  
A tuft of "fur". The ear of a teddy bear.  
  
He'd seen it when Rashid had brought the boy's "bag" from the plane, but not since then. A child's toy. Where Zechs had gotten it from, and how, when he was wearing cut-down rags of clothes at the time, was beyond Duo's imagination. Or /why/ an ex-Oz soldier would think to pack such next to a small missile. . .  
  
//But you're not a soldier anymore, I suspect. . . Or perhaps you've nowhere else to turn to. You /would/ have people to turn to, if you opened up. But you refuse to. Why?// Sweeping silky strands of bangs aside and behind the boy's ear, Duo turned to follow Heero, pausing to glance back over his shoulder, frowning slightly, painfully.  
  
//Who /is/ Zechs Marquise? It's the key to everything. . . Maybe even winning this.//  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Treize glared at his niece as if she carried The Plague of old. //God help me. . . Now I know how Zechs felt when confronting Noin.//  
  
Dorothy beamed back at Treize with an amused, smug smile as if he'd just given her the best birthday present of her life.  
  
//Of all things to forget. . . //  
  
"Cousin, your hair is the most /becoming/ shade of fuchsia I've /ever/ seen," Dorothy proudly announced. "Has Lady Une seen it yet?"  
  
//Heaven forbid!!!// "No," he growled out tersely.  
  
"Now, now, Cousin, it really suits you, I think. . ."  
  
//Zechs, if I get /one/ more comment on the hair, /your/ hair will be /blue/ before the day is out or I am not a Kushrenada!// "Dorothy, much as I enjoy your company," //Which I do NOT when my hair is this color!// "I did not leave Romefeller nor come haring around half the world just to show you my hair."  
  
"No, of course not. You've been haring after Zechs," she answered smoothly, batting eyelashes coyly at him. Yes, she had heard the rumors of "Treize's boy" too, it seemed. . .  
  
//Dorothy, you are the most infuriating creature I've ever met. And that includes boatloads of spoiled diplomats, their snotty gossipy wives, and their nasty little rugrats!// Fighting the urge to just close his eyes and cry from sheer frustration, the ex-Oz general set his jaw grimly and answered, "Yes and no."  
  
She smiled brightly at him, with mock-innocence. Dorothy never actually /tried/ true innocence--nobody who'd ever met her would believe such an expression on /her/ face. It would have been as out of place as a "tragedy" clown mask on a Cheshire Cat. "He /is/ here, though, Cousin. You and the Gundam pilots certainly shouted for him loud enough this morning."  
  
Treize frowned sternly at her. "You know the Gundam pilots?" //If /she/ knew them, why the heck were my men and Zechs hunting half the globe for them before this?!?//  
  
Dorothy waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Grandfather had pictures of a couple. . . and I saw them arrive yesterday. Besides, they seem to like Miss Relena a great deal if they tend to converge around her. . . or perhaps it's the other way around? Now I'm not so sure," she teased.  
  
Treize fought the urge to groan, and sought instead a chair to collapse into. None presented itself in the long, impressive hall. //Hell. He really /was/ going to get rid of me. . . Some relative!// "In that case, you know your grandfather and I have had a. . . falling out, right?"  
  
"It was because he had Cousin Zechs imprisoned, right?" she responded with a slight mischievous smile. Calling Zechs a relation was sheer impishness on her part, for all she liked the Oz ace--she knew he was no such thing, and only wanted to annoy Treize about how Treize treated the younger man. Like a cousin, a blood relative. . .  
  
"No, it was because he had 'Cousin' Zechs tortured and experimented on," Treize shot back, mimicking her tone of voice. //Try that for size. He doesn't tell you the whole truth, for all you're his favorite, Dorothy.// "And now he needs serious help. . ."  
  
The mirth faded from her eyes and expression. "You brought him home to die?" she asked quietly, head tilting.  
  
Wincing, Treize shook his head, feeling a faint chill between his shoulder blades. //Nearly. It may not kill him yet, but if Sally Po can't do her miracles. . . // "No, he isn't dying yet. . . Though he may still, if the doctor we brought here can't help him," he admitted firmly, grimly. "We brought him here with us because we have a plan to return the favor to your Grandfather."  
  
He could see her stiffen stubbornly. "Oh? You intend to take over Romefeller then?" But her eyes challenged him. She wasn't adverse to the idea.  
  
//I am /not/ leading that band of pompous misguided anachronisms. And that is final! Though you seem to accept he's capable of such inhumanities frighteningly easily, Dorothy.// "No," Treize answered firmly. "Though he clearly expected me to try at some point for his 'throne', Dorothy. I was marked for the same fate as Zechs, you see."  
  
Dorothy's eyes actually widened. "He wouldn't," she breathed in horror, anger glimmering in her gaze.  
  
Nodding slowly, the ex-Oz general made a face. "Small things add up. Add in that I was his assurance that Zechs would never be a threat to him, and they fall into place. Nor was that a good fate to fall into. . ."  
  
She stared into space a moment, then whirled back to him, asking, "What did they do to him?"  
  
Considering her a long moment, Treize frowned grimly. //Would she endure reading all that Quatre passed to me? The files Zechs found, the medical reports? I've been hesitant to peek into them myself after talking to Duo. But she is old enough to decide for herself. . . // Finally, he offered, "Do you want to see the reports thus far? We may never fully know--he refuses to say anything."  
  
Dorothy snorted in an unladylike manner. "He wouldn't."  
  
//True enough. But in this case, it's very bad for him. . . // Turning, he offered Dorothy his arm, still grim. "I warn you. . . I've been afraid to read all the details myself."  
  
She paused, her accepting arm suspended over his, eyes round with surprise. "That bad," she whispered quietly.  
  
"Those are only the things we /know/ about," he answered softly, leading her towards his rooms.  
  
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"I think you should come meet them, Wufei."  
  
The young man addressed frowned, eyes narrowing, his arms crossed over his chest stubbornly. //I do not trust such an alliance. It is. . . too strange! But she is sure that the other Gundam pilots are willing members, and that these traitors to Oz have changed sides to preserve their own honor. . . But I am not so certain they had honor to start with!// So he said nothing. Only glowered into the sea. //This land is depressing. . .//  
  
Sally sighed behind his back. "Talk to them. They are good people. Honorable people. That's why this alliance exists!" she pointed out insistently.  
  
"If they were honorable, why were they part of Oz to begin with?" Wufei returned sharply. //Answer that for me! You just met them, and you've taken their side already!//  
  
"Why not ask them yourself?" she retorted with equal emphasis. "Perhaps, like me, they sought to make a difference. . . and perhaps change things. They say that one of the best ways to reform an organization is from within. . ."  
  
//And how does that explain /Treize/ being a part of this alliance?// Glaring at the curling waves of the horizon, Wufei snarled, "Then how is it that Oz's former leader is a member of this alliance?"  
  
"Nobody said it was a foolproof method of reform, Wufei. He made too many enemies, too high up, too fast--according to Miss Noin. What I've seen of him, though, supports her words," Sally mused sadly.  
  
//Yes, you mentioned that Romefeller was on the verge of imprisoning him. But that could have been but a convenient rumor! And I still find this nonsense about making an Oz pilot into a child hard to believe. . .// But he couldn't refute Sally's opinion. He hadn't seen or spoken to the man since trying to assassinate him by sword. //And I didn't understand him then. I certainly don't now!!!// So Wufei only grunted.  
  
"Wufei," Sally sighed. He could hear her stepping closer, so that she stood looking over his shoulder at the sea. "Why the horizon?" The question was unexpected. "Why can't you bear to look at New Port City?"  
  
//Because it is so. . . broken. Like L5. Empty, haunted by ghosts.// To show weakness to her, however, was something Wufei refused to do. "They left these ruins standing as if to attract the ghosts of the past back. . . yet they rebuild, even as they refuse to fight to protect themselves from it repeating!" he snarled. //Foolish!//  
  
"That's why this alliance is here, Wufei. To protect them."  
  
Wufei whirled on her furiously. "Four Gundams? Against Romefeller--with those new suits you described? It won't work!" //The odds are too high! And this city--this /country/--will be leveled by their trying!//  
  
"That's why Relena's attempts to win world leaders to her peace principles. She can make Romefeller collapse in on itself. . ."  
  
"She won't have a country by then!" Wufei answered contemptuously. //What kind of leader sacrifices her responsibility for her people like that?//  
  
"I think. . . there are other pieces to the puzzle here, which might answer that problem. Perhaps she intends to evacuate--but you're right. We all know this country will face a major battle." Sally sounded surprisingly puzzled, as if she suspected something but couldn't put a finger on exactly what the hints meant. Yet she stared out at the ocean thoughtfully. "I didn't think about it until you just mentioned it, but you /are/ right. Unless the alliance has something up its sleeves, this country will be doomed."  
  
Wufei tilted his head, peering up at her quizzically. //Are they so desperate that they are willing to sacrifice this place, all these people, for the chance of peace, at such high odds? That is not right! This is not just!!!// Teeth gritted, he stated bluntly, "They are willing to sacrifice all these people. . ."  
  
Sally's eyes widened, and she glanced over at him in horror. "I doubt it! I think they would evacuate the country first. . . You know, I'm not sure they've all even realized the sheer scale of the damage a mobile suit battle would cause here! But no, I don't think any of them would accept such losses. . ."  
  
//Not sure all of them realized it? But that means /someone/ must have!// His eyes narrowed. "Treize probably knows. /He/ proposed the idea, you said."  
  
Shaking her head in denial, Sally answered slowly, "No. . . Zechs did, actually."  
  
"The Oz. . . /boy/," Wufei mused, frowning. //I still find that story hard to believe. She said this is his homeland. Why would he sacrifice it? Unless his ties to it are near nothing, as many of these Westerners go. . .//  
  
Sally chuckled softly, amused. "Wufei," she murmured with an indulgent smile, "he may be a child now, but he's still sharp." The amusement faded to another distant, thoughtful look, as if she were recalling some detail that just now became significant somehow. "You know, I don't think he /liked/ the idea of the alliance coming here. . . but I don't know why they picked this place. Maybe they couldn't find anywhere else that would welcome them."  
  
Wufei snorted. "Can you blame other countries for that?" //I would have kicked them out, too, were I a responsible leader!//  
  
Sally frowned slightly at the distant horizon a long moment. . . then murmured, "Wufei, I told you why I came. . ."  
  
"That suicidal Gundam pilot asked you to undo whatever Romefeller did to that Oz boy," Wufei returned promptly, eyeing her suspiciously. //What are you thinking of? I am not sure this is good. I am not sure /coming here/ was a good idea, either, now!//  
  
"Wufei. . . he's an honorable. . . boy, now, I suppose. He was an honorable man before. I'm. . ." She paused, flushing faintly with embarrassment. "I probably wouldn't understand how his mind works as well as you would. But I need to know everything I can about him--because what they did to him affected that, too. I'd like you to speak to him, and tell me what you think."  
  
Wufei blinked at her.  
  
//You want me to talk to this Oz boy? What do you expect me to say to him?!? "I didn't happen to kill any of your friends in that last battle, did I?" This is foolishness!//  
  
"There is a war on, Onna! I do not have time to chat with failed pilots messed up by their own commanders!" Wufei flung back defensively.  
  
The look Sally gave him was full of sorrow, quietly stating that she expected better from Wufei. "He can still fly his mobile suit, Wufei, or so I'm told. . . so he isn't a failure yet. But I think he has the answers you want, Wufei, and perhaps you have some answers for him. . . ? He needs help, Wufei, and it's my /medical/ opinion that you're the best candidate."  
  
Shifting his arms over his chest to a slightly more comfortable position, Wufei glowered. //Why /me/? Why should I get involved in this folly? And more important, why do /you/ want me involved in it?// "Why should I do this?" he asked her bluntly. "Just /being/ here is foolishness!"  
  
Sally smiled slowly, warmly, at his icy demeanor. "Because you should meet them and talk to them before you judge the wisdom of their actions. Because you're aimless and lost right now, and perhaps it will help you find a direction. Because you can help someone as lost as you are. Because it is right."  
  
Wufei shifted his glare out to the ocean again with a huff. //Those are good arguments. I /am/ lost. But the other Gundam pilots must have been, too, surely. Most of all, I want to know why they have become part of this, with these people, these former enemies. . .//  
  
"Wufei," Sally added quietly. "There's something else. . . In doing what they did to him, he's lost his ability to distance his memories. And in those memories are secrets that might be important in the coming battles. Not only that--they're tearing him apart. I'm willing to try anything to help him retain his sanity until something more can be done. . ."  
  
He shuddered at the image that presented. //How can he not distance memories of the past? Is it some kind of drug Romefeller used, that caused this? If so. . . it /is/ something I want to help her undo. I want to do everything I can against that organization, if just to spite them!//  
  
"Something about him reminds me of you Gundam pilots, Wufei. I don't care to think of what may happen if he /does/ break finally."  
  
Wufei closed his eyes.  
  
//We cannot afford such a thing.//  
  
"I will do as you ask, then," Wufei accepted quietly, turning. . . this time to set his gaze on the ruins of the palace standing behind them, and the construction in the distance behind those ruined walls.  
  
//It sounds more and more as if this Oz pilot has become much like this land. Crumbling. Ruin. Something trying to rebuild, people trying to hope. But against what odds?//  
  
As he watched, a gust of wind sent a chunk of ruined floor crashing to the mounds of rubble below.  
  
//I hold no hopes of success here, however. I will try this futile thing, but only because to try is right. . .//  
  
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To be continued. Sorry guys. The month of Finals Week tends to be hectic, and before that I was busy with my brother's wedding! I'll add a good bit more after Finals, tho. :) 


	20. Everyone Is Asking Who

That's Childish, So Childish. . .  
  
Chapter Twenty: Everyone Is Asking Who  
  
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Disclaimer--Don't own Gundam Wing, nor the song the title's from. "One and One Make Five" is by Petshop Boys.  
  
Warnings--Confusion, fear, some swearing, frustration, ghosts (living ones), falling debris, angst, and hinted plans (though maybe those are just hidden plot-related insinuations on my part that will become clear later). . .  
  
Treize plays with fire. Wufei has a fright. Zechs is reverting and that's giving /him/ a fright nothing else he'd experienced could compare to. But he knows only one place that can help him. . . a place that has equal chances of breaking him entirely right now!  
  
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Trowa was talking quietly to Heero and Duo when Zechs stepped out of his room, yawning and blinking, long hair still damp at the ends. All three became silent instantly, and stared at him.  
  
Zechs blinked back at them, eyebrows arching, his feet hesitating. //Um. . . I hope they're not set on revenge. But why else would they be here?// "Morning?" he asked quietly, a bit warily, hoping the greeting would ease the situation a bit.  
  
Duo chuckled, shaking his head so that his braid swung back and forth behind him like a pendulum. "It's well past noon, Zechs. If you had been sleeping like everyone /else/ last night, instead of setting up traps and annoyances, you wouldn't have missed the commotion this morning."  
  
//Commotion? An attack?!?// Icy eyes widened in alarm. "What commotion? What happened?" he demanded, worried.  
  
"We heard about Dorothy Catalonia," Heero supplied with a frown, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall opposite Zechs.  
  
Miri blinked again, looking from one pilot to the other, then tilted his head slightly. //That's /all/? Granted, Dorothy can be a true pain in the ass, but she tends to draw back her claws before serious harm is done.// "So, what happened then?" he inquired, relaxing a bit.  
  
"She knows you're here," Trowa added.  
  
Zechs shivered at the thought. //Okay, maybe /after/ serious harm is done. Better be on your guard, Miri! Dermail's not going to let me be, not if he has a penny's worth of sense. . .// Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. "Well, she'd have noticed sooner or later. She's sharp. . ."  
  
"She knows because we were screaming at you this morning," Trowa continued.  
  
//Oh God--the pranks! Zechs, what were you /thinking/! I should have realized. . . I should have thought. . . ! Oh damn. . . Why--why am I losing my sense of judgment, my control, my clarity?// Setting his back to the wall of the hallway, he sank down until he was sitting with knees against his chest, staring in blank dismay into space.  
  
"I /am/ losing it, then," he breathed softly, struggling to suppress--or at least hide--his terror of the implications. That he. . . was /changing/. Fear of the unknown. Fear of becoming. . . what? A child? Of losing control, of losing all the protective habits and mannerisms he had built into himself over the years, certainly. //I can't hold onto what or who I was. What am I becoming?!? What am I /now/?!? What. . . what will I lose next? I've almost no defenses left. . .// "Piece by piece. . . First my silence, then my control, now my judgment. . . I'm losing. . . me."  
  
"Zechs. . . it's not that bad. Trowa was just telling us that Treize is convincing her to help us," Duo supplied hopefully.  
  
Miri rubbed at his face with his hands, staring at Heero's boots, yet not really seeing them. //But it /is/ bad! I'm. . . falling apart. I'm. . . afraid of what's happening to me. The old Zechs would never have admitted fear--he wouldn't have admitted to half what I just told you! And I can't afford this happening to me here, or now! I can't--I can't lose Relena and Sanc again. . .// "Duo, you don't understand. . . Mistakes--I can't afford to make more mistakes like this. The price is too high."  
  
Heero's voice answered before Duo could get a word out, "He's right. Mistakes like these can be dangerous to all of us on the battlefield."  
  
Zechs could feel a sliver of ice teasing his spine. //I'm a liability. It would have been kinder if they killed me at Congo! I shouldn't be here. . . This was a mistake. I. . . But what can I do now? I'm a ghost, little more. A ghost. . . who can't even haunt his home.//  
  
"So? We raid that base, get what Sally needs, and fix Zechs," Duo supplied after a pause. "That was the plan. No need to change it. It's just more urgent now."  
  
Heero grunted, shoving off the wall. "Then we have no time to waste like this. I'll find Treize and deliver the letter."  
  
Trowa nodded slowly. "I'll find Rashid and Miss Noin and see what we can use to attack a base."  
  
"I need to talk to Quatre," Duo mused, thoughtful. "Hey, Zechs--maybe you should talk to Sally. Maybe she can whip together something temporary to help you--who knows?"  
  
//I rather doubt it.// Zechs mused unhappily. //But. . . I need to come to terms with this somehow, to confront this problem, figure out how to handle these changes. And for that. . . I only know one place. Can I endure it, though? The memories. . . I don't know. I have to try, though.//  
  
"I'll talk to her," Miri murmured at his knees.  
  
//I will leave a message with Pagan. Then I'll go. . . I'll talk to her after. . . after I face my fear. . . After I go /there/. . .//  
  
Sanc. The old ruined palace.  
  
//If I'm sane enough after that. But it's the best place to confront who I am, and what is happening to me. . . The most fitting place.//  
  
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Treize felt a good bit more lighthearted in Heero's presence, despite the Gundam pilot's icy demeanor. It was a grade up from Dorothy's persistently- teasing presence and the depressing and infuriating news she had uncovered with him, which had been in far more detail than he cared to voluntarily recall. For the past couple hours, he'd been torn between plotting vilely alongside Dorothy some rather grisly demises for those responsible (including her grandfather), and cringing in sympathy as if to protect his own vulnerable areas from similar mistreatment. . .  
  
//If they hadn't experimented with him, I think Zechs /still/ would be breaking down. They did too much to him for anyone to endure with sanity intact! Maybe. . . it's possible his reverting was a blessing, a means of coping with it all. The pranks might be a way to cope, too. . . God help us if it is! I don't know how many more like those we can take!//  
  
"Heero. . . It's good to see you again," the ex-Oz general offered cheerfully in an attempt to distract his thoughts from reviewing what he'd just learned, even as he strode along beside the younger man, heading for the Green Room, where Miss Noin had said Relena and Pagan were awaiting them.  
  
Heero stopped abruptly, eyes flicking to glare at Treize silently, suspiciously, while the rest of his body remained statue-still, seemingly frozen.  
  
Treize paused his long strides, meeting Wing's pilot's wary expression with an amused smirk. //So, the trust between us in this alliance is very thin, I take it. You still don't think much of me. Well, I can't blame you or the others after the New Edwards Base incident--that was a low blow on my part. But my actions should prove my word's worth in time. I just wonder how long it will be and how many actions on my part before you feel satisfied. . . Until then, however, I can still have some fun at your expense.//  
  
A minute's worth of glaring, then Heero moved onward without a word.  
  
Smothering a chuckle, Treize continued after the ruffled Gundam pilot. //He's almost as fun to play with as 05. . .// To continue his game, the general asked complacently, "He /did/ remember to give you the letter in question?"  
  
Again those intense blue eyes shifted a glare at Treize, though this time Heero kept moving. Tersely, almost reprovingly, Wing's pilot replied, "Yes."  
  
//Ah, the blunt type. Always fun to annoy his kind. . .// "Did he say anything about it?" //I wonder what Zechs has to say to his little sister. . . especially if she doesn't know she has a brother!//  
  
"No. He left it in my room last night." Sharp, almost scathingly so, but this time those eyes didn't even grace Treize with a glare. Perhaps he was trying to discourage or pretend to ignore the former Oz leader's questions.  
  
//I have cracked nuts harder than you, my friend. . . So, Zechs left it for you when pulling his pranks? But I bet you never even asked him about it.// "So, then, did you open it?" Treize added, trying not to laugh--as he knew the reaction that would follow.  
  
Heero gave the older man a disgusted look, standing in front of Treize with arms folded stubbornly across his chest, almost looking as if scolding an immoral child.  
  
Treize merely smiled all the more brightly.  
  
"Why do you think I would open it," Heero demanded in a dangerous, toneless fashion.  
  
//It's /so/ fun teasing this one!// "To find out what it says, of course. Zechs never said you couldn't read it, too. . ."  
  
Heero frowned slowly, darkly, then turned around and resumed walking.  
  
Treize blinked. //What? No curiosity? Or /did/ he read it? He never said he didn't. . .// Lengthening and quickening his dignified steps, Treize caught up with the Gundam pilot shortly. "So, then. . . /did/ you read it?" he demanded back, eager.  
  
"No."  
  
"Not interested in what it says?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
This time he drew those glaring eyes again. "It is between them, and has nothing to do with me," Heero growled.  
  
//Got him on the defensive. They know nothing about Zechs, though, it seems, even after these pranks. He's a wily creature, young or old!// "Are you sure?"  
  
A passing frown was aimed at Treize for at least a dozen strides. Then, "You're baiting me."  
  
//Like a hook for a fish,// Treize agreed with a mental smile. //You've caught on rather well, however. But how, I wonder?// Smiling with amusement, the ex-Oz leader asked, "What gives you that idea?"  
  
A snort from the Gundam pilot. "Relena probably knows more about us than any of you. Any mention of Gundam pilots in the letter is therefore of little or no importance."  
  
That made Treize tilt his head slightly, thoughtful, as Dorothy's earlier words came back to him. //So, they've met before--and she knows what they are? Interesting!// Then he nodded slowly, accepting Heero's deduction.  
  
"Besides, Zechs is not the type prone to gossip," Heero added, lips twitching into a slight smile. "Especially on hard copy."  
  
//To che~. And very true. Zechs isn't the type to leave any permanent records behind. I doubt he's written a single letter to anyone before this- -it's always been vidphone, word-of-mouth, and the rare bare minimum of words on written reports and requests to convey a message, and through others half the time even then!// Treize's smile faded slowly as he thought about it. //Yes, old friend, you are too secretive by far. Too careful. To protect Relena, perhaps? Perhaps. . .//  
  
"You're right, Zechs is not prone to gossip. . . but he /is/ prone to pulling strings, or he wouldn't have been able to pull that prank on you," the ex-Oz general pointed out thoughtfully. "To help in this, he has to pull strings he's been very reluctant to acknowledge thus far. I wonder which strings will move. . . and how that will affect us all."  
  
Heero frowned at Treize, as if those words puzzled him, intrigued him, made him think. But he said nothing, and his expression divulged nothing further concerning his musings.  
  
Glancing at the Gundam pilot at his side, Treize sighed softly to himself. //You, too, are very careful my young friend. I wonder what strings lie in /your/ hands, and those of your friends!//  
  
The pair continued on the rest of the way in complete silence.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Wufei finally admitted to himself that this place was literally falling to pieces when a chunk of floor from the level above barely missed his skull, forcing him to dodge into the charred doorway at the end of the long hall.  
  
//Much like L5,// he decided grimly, //only worse. Those buildings were not usually in such bad shape. But then, they were not gutted and undermined by explosions and fire.//  
  
He could hear the voices of the two strangers he had followed into the ruins of the old palace, and slowed his steps cautiously, so he wouldn't catch up with them too soon, and so he could keep his movements inconspicuous. Wufei had experience with moving quietly through ruins--L5 was full of dying buildings, and the only way to traverse them safely was through silence and caution, as loud, foolish actions could shake loose more than a traveler cared for.  
  
//Looters, souvenir-hunters. . . Don't they realize they disgrace the dead? Not that this place, however, has much to take. The fires and bullets destroyed most of it, and time the rest. . . But I will do this land one favor--I will kick these two fools out of their best monument, the one they all wish not to see and fear to remove.//  
  
A sudden scream made the Gundam pilot jump, and he leapt back to the charred doorframe, holding his breath.  
  
For good reason. He could feel a faint tremor through the wall, and see dusty ash and ruined plaster sift down from a section of ceiling in the middle of the long hall just ahead. Another, bigger chunk of ceiling fell shortly after with a vibrating impact that sent another cascade of cracked plaster down.  
  
//This place is dangerous! What the hell is that fool thinking, screaming in here?!?// he snarled silently to himself. It was better than berating himself for following the fools in here. . .  
  
When the stones appeared settled, and the soft tumble of ash and plaster ended, Wufei crept along the wall through the hall towards the doorway the scream had issued from. He could hear swift, sharp, urgent whispers, panicked and frightened, even as he drew closer.  
  
"I /swear/! I saw a ghost--I /swear/!"  
  
"Shhhh! Hush! Probably just a trick of the light--come on, you know there's no such thing--"  
  
"I know what I saw!"  
  
"It's broad daylight! All right, so the light's fading, but it's still fairly bright in here. . ."  
  
"It was a /ghost/!" the other insisted.  
  
"Probably just a painting."  
  
"It /moved/!"  
  
"Oh, come /on/. . ."  
  
"It /moved/, and it was /glowing/!"  
  
Wufei sniffed silently to himself. //Idiots.// He was inclined to believe the second voice's owner. //Why would pacifists haunt /anything/? Hardly for revenge. And what would they ask of any they encountered? To be remembered? They already are. For some final favor, some last act they forgot to perform themselves? To or for /whom/? All they knew are dead, according to Sally. . .//  
  
Reaching the doorway and carefully touching the singed red curtain nearly filling it, he pressed his back to the wall, thinking quickly. //Perhaps I should play a ghost, and surprise them. Perhaps that will make them leave. But I doubt I look anything like the people who lived here. . .//  
  
"Holy shit," someone breathed in complete horror.  
  
Someone else gasped in a breath--then gabbled breathlessly, "Told you. . . !"  
  
"Who are you?" A third voice, young, low, and authoritative.  
  
Wufei frowned, feeling a faint chill run down his spine. //I only saw two enter! Who is the third?//  
  
"Oh my God. . ."  
  
"Ghost!"  
  
"Let's get out of here!!!" Panicked.  
  
Abrupt scrambling scratching sounds reached Wufei's ears, all the warning he had before suddenly one and then the other of the pair he'd been following burst out of the ragged curtains, running down the halls in full flight and not bothering to look anywhere but ahead, at the nearest exit.  
  
Blinking, Wufei watched them vanish down the hall like a man stunned, not even noticing the grey dust floating down from the ceiling onto his head.  
  
//Well!//  
  
Apparently that took care of the two trespassers in the old palace.  
  
//Then who is the third. . . ?//  
  
Warily, Wufei peeked around the curtain. . .  
  
But the next hall was empty.  
  
No, not empty. Stepping past the impeding curtain, he could see the damaged painting on one wall in the center of the hall, and an equally singed, battered marble-top table at the base. The rest of the furniture lay in splinters or ash, the rest of the paintings likewise, all little more than remnants in the corners of the hall. The hints of a strip of carpet showed how the fires had spread here. . . yet somehow one painting and table remained, almost like a shrine.  
  
Wufei warily glanced at the ceiling, finding it more intact than the previous halls, and dared walk through the center of the hall floor to draw closer to the painting, curious. Yes, now despite a dusting of ash and plaster, he could see it was the face of a solemn old man, with long white hair and flowing beard, gazing out almost sadly with surprisingly blue eyes. A small strip of brass in the frame tried to offer some kind of name, to identify the old man. . .  
  
Below the painting, on the table, a folded metal case sat, flame-tarnished brass, glowing weakly in the light of the setting sun that filtered through the deteriorating walls and gaping holes of pane-less windows of the hall.  
  
Reaching a hand carefully, Wufei opted to brush that old man's name clear, curiosity getting the best of him.  
  
//King. . . Peacecraft. Well, the rest of his name is too tarnished to make out. So this is what the famous King looked like. . .//  
  
Silently, he studied the man's picture, squinting to make out pale locks from grey ash, to discern the man's expression. Was he stern, yet somehow sad, or was that just Wufei's impression?  
  
//Did you know your death was coming? I imagine you didn't think they would touch your family as well, if you did. But in the end, you died for nothing, and lost all. . . kingdom, loved ones, life.//  
  
Leaving the painting alone, he picked up the brass case, turning the neatly carved relic over in his hands, admiring the sunbeam splay formed by light shivering across the angled metal. //Good workmanship.//  
  
Wufei opened the two halves of the damaged antique picture-frame.  
  
Black and white pictures, stained and singed, met his curious eyes. On one side, a happy, surprised little girl's picture gazed at him in joyful awe, mouth open as if to speak. On the other half, an amazed little boy with curling pale hair stared in wonder, mouth parted with delight, at a baby girl he held carefully in his arms.  
  
//Children. . .// The Gundam pilot frowned slightly, feeling his heart twist painfully and his stomach churn sickeningly. //That's right. . . the King of Sanc had two young children. Nobody knew what happened to them that day. Probably died with the rest, however. . . The Alliance wouldn't leave witnesses, no matter how young!//  
  
The ex-scholar's teeth ground in slow, simmering anger.  
  
//Sally said that the others felt the Romefeller Foundation was the driving force--and the commanding one, perhaps--behind the Alliance. . . If so, then I will help, though perhaps in my own way. But I need to know. I need to be sure that Romefeller is the true enemy.//  
  
Wufei closed the picture-frame, setting it on the burned marble with a soft click, looking down at it thoughtfully a moment.  
  
Something, some unnamed instinct perhaps, or the feeling of being watched, made him turn to look at the doorway at the far end of the hall, the end that had received greater damage. And when he did, a chill ran down his spine like a lost ice-cube slipping down his shirt!  
  
//It. . . can't be!// He could feel his eyes widening in shock and disbelief.  
  
In the doorway, which hadn't been filled before, framed in golden glow, stood what could only be a trick of the eyes. A boy, face so similar to the one he had glimpsed only an instant ago, with pale hair, and the eyes of the man in the painting. . . and perhaps only a little older than the damaged photograph! The boy's intense ice-blue gaze fixed on him, expressionless. And meanwhile, part of Wufei's mind jabbered in good imitation of the trespassers of earlier that yes, he /did/ seem to glow, in the dying light of the setting sun. . .  
  
//A. . . ghost? The boy. . . ? But why would he haunt here?//  
  
"Who are you?" came a suspicious, authoritative question. No doubt in Wufei's mind--this was that third voice from earlier!  
  
//I. . . I am /not/ afraid of ghosts! Besides, this is a pacifist, and would not harm me!// the Gundam pilot tried reassuring himself. Not that it helped much. But it /did/ allow his voice to remain steady when he replied slowly, with growing uncertainty and wariness, "Chang Wufei."  
  
The "ghost" stepped out of the doorway--and lost that golden glow bestowed by the setting sun, becoming less ethereal and more human with slow every step closer he took to Wufei. As he drew closer, Wufei could see ash dusting the boy's clothes, a streak marking one cheek, dirtying his hands and boots. A very substantial ghost.  
  
Wufei relaxed slowly, though he remained wary of this strange boy with such an eerie resemblance to the dead monarchy of this palace. //So. . . he is /not/ a ghost! Is this some kind of joke? What is going on here? And who /is/ he?//  
  
The boy stopped about ten feet away, frowning a moment, then pale eyebrows lifted slowly. "05," he stated with quiet but firm conviction, labeling Wufei.  
  
//05. . .? But that's what /Oz/ calls us. . . !// Wufei glared at the boy with growing suspicion, saying nothing further.  
  
"I recognize your voice from the black box of Noin's Aries," the boy continued, frowning slightly again.  
  
//Noin. . .? The onna from Lake Victoria Base? How does he know her? And how does a /child/ hear tapes from black boxes of military suits?// "Who are /you/?" the Gundam pilot demanded sharply.  
  
The boy blinked at him, frown fading slowly as he stared, then shifted his gaze to the ruined painting of the last king. Something about his expression seemed. . . almost lost, and somehow despairing, and definitely haunted. "I. . . /was/ Zechs Merquise. . . but I'm not so certain anymore," he answered quietly, slowly, as if uncertain of it himself and in the process of discerning the truth.  
  
//Zechs Merquise. . . The Oz ex-pilot-turned-boy that Sally is here to work on,// Wufei mused, studying the small figure grimly. //He is. . . not what I expected. I expected something more like Treize's arrogance and calm authority, something more bloodthirsty. . . Definitely not one who looks like a famous pacifist! Not in /Oz/!//  
  
But that resemblance to the boy in the old photo was still running faint tremors along Wufei's spine every time he looked at Zechs. And that irritated the Chinese pilot. //How could this be? Some Westerners say that everyone in this world has a twin of appearance, if not blood, but this. . . is too close. It is not right!// "Your resemblance is very strik. . ." he began, eyes flicking back to the painting.  
  
Something clicked mentally, making Wufei trail into silence, lips numbed by the realization.  
  
Zechs said nothing, only turning again to face Wufei, neither denying nor confirming anything, waiting patiently, his icy eyes bleak.  
  
//I. . . see,// Wufei decided, blinking slowly at the painting, then looking back at the boy-who-was-not-a-boy before him. "You are the Prince of Sanc," Shenlong's pilot stated, bristling slightly. //Why Westerners cannot simply admit things outright, especially /important/ things like this, is beyond me!//  
  
Icy blue eyes gazed at him, unblinking, but their focus shifted to look /through/ him, observing. . . what? Only ashy walls and the ragged curtain stood behind Wufei right now.  
  
Slowly, Zechs stated with quiet finality, as if reaching some difficult conclusion, "The Prince of Sanc is dead. . ."  
  
The way those eyes saw beyond him bothered Wufei more than the idea of seeing a ghost earlier. //Memories. . . Sally said he cannot distance memories now--and any he has of this place would be very bad, for I do not believe him--he /must/ be the Prince! That is the only explanation!//  
  
Looking back at the painting briefly, Wufei reached for the photos again, taking the chance of the boy's distraction to compare and confirm his hypothesis. No, one look substantiated his theory enough that Wufei set the pictures down again, eyes narrowing back on the heir to this kingdom.  
  
This time, he found those eyes aware and focused on him again, that moment of memory past.  
  
//He /is/ the Prince. Too much fits, yet in doing so raises too many questions. Why does he deny it? No. . . ,// Wufei amended himself, tilting his head slightly, //he did /not/ deny it! He simply stated that the Prince is dead. But clearly something else remains alive!//  
  
"You really should have set your bombs in the other wing," Zechs quietly corrected.  
  
//Nani?// Wufei blinked at him incredulously, frowning in frustration. //What the heck is he talking about?//  
  
Zechs must have read his confusion in his face, for a ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Lake Victoria Base," he clarified simply. "You should have targeted us officers, not half-fledged, un-blooded students." Those icy eyes grew colder than a glacial pool, and the smile swiftly fell.  
  
///Those/ bombs. . .// "Officers /were/ the target. I could not tell the dorms apart--everything was the same!" Wufei snarled, recalling the night with shame ruffling his temper. //I did not mean to harm students--I /was/ a student, myself! I thought I set them in the correct wing. . . obviously not, considering how quickly the base responded afterwards!//  
  
That ice faded, and the boy looked away at a corner of the battered hall. "No, I imagine they would to a stranger. . . Forgive me."  
  
Wufei let that pass without comment, mind wandering along other paths, ones earlier hinted to him. //I do not like mysteries. I want answers! I want to know. . .// "How did he die?" he demanded abruptly.  
  
Zechs waved a hand blandly in a broad, all-encompassing gesture. "Who?" he asked dully.  
  
//So he saw many deaths, then. And it bothers him? Why was he in Oz, killing, then? Why, if he doesn't like death? Why, if he had other options?// But Wufei clung to his line of thought, suspecting one question would help him force Zechs to confront the lie in the boy's defensive statement.  
  
"How did the Prince die?"  
  
Wufei expected to hear some mention of a bullet, a blow, something near lethal and bloody. Easy enough to prove that was false. But he didn't expect what he heard as an answer:  
  
"Of shame, in the garden the day Sanc fell. . ."  
  
Black brows lifted, then collided in a frustrated frown. //How? "Survivor's guilt"? That is silly nonsense! Could it be because he did not keep his people safe, or because his father failed to?// "What shame?" he demanded, still confused.  
  
Zechs didn't answer, but that glazed look returned to his eyes, and he glanced at his hands as if moving in his sleep, staring through them, yet looking them over as if they were not his, for all they moved at his command. A tremor visibly ran through the boy's spine, and he wrapped his arms about himself protectively, hunching against a chill nobody else could feel, closing his eyes, bowing his head until his long pale hair curtained his face, hiding him and his sins from the world.  
  
The way the ex-Oz pilot had looked at his hands sparked a memory of Wufei's own, something he read from a Western play during his studies. . . //"Out damn spot, out!" Macbeth. . . Or rather Macbeth's wife, with blood on her hands. . . Blood? Is that the answer. . . ? It can't be! A child /cannot/ kill! Pacifists /don't/ kill! Children are innocent, /weak/. . . !//  
  
Sally had said that sometimes the weak must fight.  
  
Wufei shivered at the thought, gazing at the shuddering boy with a mixture of horror and pity. //A /child/. . . The wrong child at that--a pacifist! /How/ did he. . . ? How /could/ he have managed it? And who?//  
  
But suddenly Shenlong's pilot had more answers than he knew what to do with, for all Zechs had done, from joining Oz to the alliance here in Sanc fell into explainable places, simple and easily understood. Frowning, Wufei folded his arms across his chest and stared at the floor by his feet.  
  
//I have answers now. . . Not all of them, but more than I think Sally expected me to find. But what am I to do?// Lifting his gaze to the old King in the painting, Wufei fought the urge to groan. //Nataku, guide me. . . My goal is clear, but in finding it, I've become lost with this Prince of contradictions! What am I to /do/?//  
  
The pair remained standing there, one lost in the past, the other lost in the future, both lost to thoughtful silence as the sun set, dimming the light around them.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --  
  
To be continued. . .  
  
Notes--I /do/ own GW playing cards now, though, as part of the reward for being one of 3 winners of Rogue11's fanfic contest. Thanks, Rogue11! I've been hunting those (not inclined to buy online if I can help it), but no comic-store here sells them. And speaking of stuff unavailable to me, in response to a review, no I never heard either Treize's or Dorothy's songs, so I can't interpret any meanings from them. However, Dorothy /does/ state when trying to board Libra that she used to play with Treize and Zechs as kids, so I imagine some fondness between the three--and the way she tried to protect Treize while on Libra suggests she was probably closer to her cousin than to any other living relative. . . If her parents died young, or Treize's for that matter, it's likely the three fostered together with the side that had living parents, so they'd be as close as siblings. . . and Treize would be like a big brother to her (big bros are often idolized). Thus, yes, he's extremely important to her, and Zechs is someone she would care about, though maybe not openly (especially if the rest of their blood-kin didn't like Zechs's presence [aka non-blood-kin as a fosterling] in the family, because being too open about that would create intra-family strife against /her/ as well).  
  
"Have you heard the news? Everyone is asking who Is that man you've been seen with And why I'm never out with you. Please tell me that you love me Sort out this confusion Say our love is still alive. Oh--people must be jumping To the wrong conclusion: One and one make five." 


	21. Did You Hear The News?

That's Childish, So Childish. . .  
  
Chapter Twenty-One: Did You Hear The News?  
  
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Disclaimer--I own nothing. The fish all died except one Gourami, who still is nameless. The cacti are long dead. My computer is surrounded by ravens now. . . literally. I've a stuffed raven plushy on it.  
  
Warnings--Erm, let's see. . . Confusion, determination to blow things up, some rather scathing comments, perhaps. Maybe a bit of angst, a touch of sap, and some very painful-sounding but amusing plans.  
  
Heero delivers his letter. Relena discovers that she had a whole life she never knew about. Zechs and Wufei talk. Duo and Quatre are hunting something, but don't know what to really look for.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----  
  
Taking a deep breath, and releasing it in a sigh, Heero pushed open the door and entered the sitting-room, immediately spying Relena sitting with hands in lap and barely-contained excitement on the edge of a soft leather couch in the room.  
  
Well, that was all he had a chance to /see/, before she leapt to her feet with the familiar cry of "Heero!" and flung her arms around him in a sudden embrace that pinned his arms to his sides and nearly cracked his healing ribs all over again.  
  
//Hope she's not taking after Noin. . .// the dismayed Gundam pilot mused grimly, enduring the pain with set teeth. //I. . . like her, but I don't think I can take much of this for a while yet.//  
  
"Heero, you're alive!" the girl exclaimed joyfully.  
  
He just looked at her. //You heard me screaming death threats this morning. How could you doubt it?// he wondered, blinking.  
  
Relena released him, stepping back a pace to beam back at him like a child who had discovered a gold coin while hunting seashells along the beach.  
  
Wing's pilot fought the strange pull his lips wanted to take, suppressing the not-terribly-familiar expression of a smile trying to reach his features. Bluntly, he offered, "I tried to die."  
  
Nodding sadly, she agreed, "I know. . . but I'm glad you didn't. I'm glad you're here. Mrs. Noventa sent a letter for you. . ."  
  
Heero frowned slightly at her, ignoring the message. Mrs. Noventa, in his opinion, was a chapter done and past, and anything she had to say was likely of little importance. His concerns lay more in the present, and particularly with the girl presently standing before him. //I don't want Relena to get her hopes up. I intend to see this mission through, and end this war, and the cost will likely be my life. I could say that I'm not here for her. . . but that's not quite true. We /are/ here because of her. Or, rather, what she can do politically to help. If she /likes/ me, she'll only be hurt in the end. So, what can I say, then?//  
  
"Noin told you we've formed an alliance," he stated, shifting to business matters. Those were always easier to discuss, /much/ easier to say than "Stop liking me! I'm probably going to die on you!"  
  
Relena's eyebrows drew together faintly, as if that confused her somewhat. "Yes. . . It seems all so strange, though. I didn't think you might accept help from people who were part of Oz. . . but Miss Noin seems nice and sincere about trying to achieve peace with as little force as necessary. . . I suppose that is what drew you all together to make this alliance, isn't it?" she asked him hopefully, uncertain.  
  
//Close enough. Though you /could/ say we all simply became tired of the atrocities and finally pinpointed the /correct/ source!// Wing's pilot grunted, staring at her unblinkingly.  
  
Relena smiled softly, and looked down at her hands, which she had folded before herself neatly. "It almost sounds too good to be true. . . Does this alliance have a name yet?" she inquired thoughtfully.  
  
//These things are supposed to have /names/?!?// Heero blinked, at a loss.  
  
She must have taken his lack of answer for a no, as she sighed softly. "I suppose it's too soon to expect you to announce one. . . Are you all together just to fight for peace? /All/ the Gundam pilots? And Oz pilots, too. . ."  
  
//That's better. Questions I can answer! Nobody ever said anything about naming us, though. . .// Absently, he answered, "We've agreed to destroy the true threat to peace together rather than each other. Only four Gundams. The fifth hasn't decided yet." //Naming us. . . Like hell I'm going to let Treize do that. . . ! And he's probably keeping us in the dark about that just so he /can/. . .//  
  
"Oh!" One hand strayed to her lips, and she blushed faintly. "Well, I imagine he'll want to help, too. . ." Thoughtful bright eyes fixed on Heero's shoulder. "The true threat to peace? Does that mean you've come to kill me, then?" she wondered calmly. Apparently, by now, after he'd threatened her multiple times over, she was getting used to hearing it from him. . . Perhaps hearing it often enough can immure anyone against the suggestion of their own death.  
  
Heero fought the urge to sigh. //You'd think that by now she'd realize that threat isn't just empty any more, but becoming a joke!// "No. Romefeller." //. . . So long as /those/ people don't start demanding I kill them! Doesn't anyone understand how off-putting hearing that /is/ to someone like me?!?//  
  
"Oh. . ." Her eyes widened at Heero's to nearly equal the size of tea- service saucers.  
  
Silence dropped between them like a loaded brick.  
  
//I suppose there's nothing anyone can say to news of the forthcoming destruction of a whole aristocracy,// Heero admitted to himself glumly, reaching into the back of his belt for a familiar envelope.  
  
Pulling it forth, he held it out to her. //May as well get this over with. Treize must be getting impatient out there, not that he'd reveal it to anyone.// "I was told to deliver this."  
  
Relena looked down at the proffered envelope in surprise, and tentatively touched it with her hand. "By who?" she asked curiously, lifting her head again to gaze into his eyes.  
  
//She has very interesting eyes. . . ,// Wing's pilot decided, much to his own surprise, before shoving the thought away violently and returning to the matter at--and literally /in/--hand. "One of us," he admitted stiffly. //Zechs didn't seem anxious to be known. . . If he reveals himself to her, it will be in his letter. None of my business.//  
  
"A Gundam pilot?" she exclaimed, surprised, her hand closing on the envelope. Interested and quite curious now, Relena looked the plain thing over in her hands, finding no name--nothing--on the exterior. It was so anonymous and simplistic that it could have been lost in a box of empties awaiting her own use. . .  
  
Heero said nothing, simply watched as she carefully ripped the envelope open and drew out a few sheets of paper with elegant scrawl on them.  
  
Relena's eyes skimmed the first line. . . then stopped, narrowed in a bit of a disbelieving frown, and ran over those words again. . . and again. . . and again. . .  
  
"This. . . can't be," the Princess of Sanc breathed softly. "Is this some kind of. . . ?" she began, looking up at Heero, but the rest died on her lips, and she shook her head negatively, answering herself. "No, it's real, then. . . But--how?"  
  
Heero frowned slowly at her. //How what? What on earth could Zechs write in one line that's so astonishing? "I'm your father?"// He snorted mentally. //This isn't some space-opera. . . and he's not so dramatic. Maybe I'll ask Zechs later. . .//  
  
Meanwhile, Relena had pried her eyes from that first line, and was following the rest with a tight, ashen expression.  
  
Heero studied her thoughtfully, reading her shifts of expression as she read. Whatever the letter said, it upset her, confused her greatly, astonished her beyond anything she'd been imagining. Something among the contents made her suspicion fade to a kind of sadness and concern, especially near the end. . .  
  
//What on earth did Zechs write to her?// Heero wondered, frustrated. //Maybe I should have listened to Treize and sneaked a peek, but I doubt Zechs would take kindly to that. . . and I rather like my spandex in one piece, thank you. He's already proven that he doesn't get mad--he gets even. As bad as Duo, there. . .//  
  
"Pagan?" Relena called, finally looking up from the letter, and glancing about for the reliable old butler.  
  
A familiar shaggy grey head peeked in the door. "Yes Miss Relena?" he inquired smoothly.  
  
To Heero's surprise, the girl extended the letter towards the man, a conflicting mixture of emotions swirling in her eyes. "Is this true? This isn't some kind of. . . sick game?" she asked softly.  
  
//Why is she asking /him/?!?// Wing's pilot frowned, bristling slightly. //Shouldn't she be asking me?//  
  
The aging servant walked over without a word, and accepted the letter, skimming it with hidden eyes quickly.  
  
Heero seethed. //I do NOT like being left out on things! What is going on here?!?//  
  
"Yes, Miss Relena, I believe it is legitimate. This /is/ his handwriting. . ." The old man offered the pages back to her, a hint of sadness about his face.  
  
"You knew," Relena breathed softly, hurt and disappointed.  
  
Heero blinked, then glared at the servant. //Knew /what/?//  
  
Pagan shook his head in a sorrowful negative. "I knew you both when you were too young to remember. I. . . suspected he survived. . . but he has clearly taken care not to confirm the fact. It's a long story, I'm afraid."  
  
Glaring still at the unsuspecting letter, Heero felt some of his resentment melt at that. //I take it, then, that she didn't realize Zechs existed? What ties do they have between them? What kind of connection could there be between an Oz officer and the daughter of pacifists?//  
  
Relena stared down at the pages in her hands with a haunted, almost pitiful expression for a long moment, silent. She seemed to want to ask a million questions, but unable to think of who to ask. A girl at a complete loss, trying to understand what she just learned. . .  
  
"Not right now, Pagan. But later. . . I think I'll have a lot of questions."  
  
Looking up at her, Heero questioned her with his eyes alone. //I want to know. . . Something turned your world upside-down. What?//  
  
"I'm not supposed to ask you any questions about this, Heero," Relena murmured softly, eyes still on the letter she held with shaking hands. "I. . . don't understand why, but. . . I have so many questions! I'll. . . I'll have to think about this. . . I never knew--Father never said /anything/. . . ! But maybe he just didn't have time. . ."  
  
Pagan added nothing, merely a silent presence in the background.  
  
//Zechs, omae o korosu! You /told/ her not to ask me!// Heero grimaced slightly. //Damn secrets! Duo is right--we have to find your secrets, or this alliance won't work!//  
  
"As for the question you're here for," Relena continued after a moment, looking into Heero's eyes almost helplessly, "I. . . I don't see much choice. I intended to talk to Romefeller and try something of the kind in any case, not just educating the children of world leaders. . . but I can't condone attacks on anyone, you understand. That's against the Peace Principle."  
  
//What does she mean, she has little choice?// The Gundam pilot tilted his head a little to one side, stating firmly, "You lead this nation, and other nations follow you. You alone can choose for this matter. You /best/ suit the purpose, but you aren't the only one."  
  
Her eyes dropped to the letter again. "Not me alone," she whispered softly. "And not me best. . . I don't understand. . ."  
  
Feeling a pang of sadness because he had no idea how to help the torn girl, Heero let his anger and frustration ebb away, becoming thoughtful. //I wish I understood what's going on. Maybe I could help you--/and/ us-- better than just standing here. . . Why did Zechs take such care at leaving me in the dark like this?// "I don't understand," he admitted quietly.  
  
"No," the Princess of Sanc agreed unhappily, "and neither do I--at least, not fully--but letting you understand is not my prerogative. . . I'm sorry, Heero."  
  
The young man shrugged the apology away. //It doesn't matter. I'll hunt out the answers on my own, then, if Zechs is so unwilling to enlighten the rest of us!//  
  
Sighing softly, Relena lifted her head and gave Heero a brave smile. "I suppose I'd better talk to Mr. Kushrenada, then. . . Will I see you around, Heero? Please don't leave after just arriving here. . ."  
  
Feeling a tug on his heart, Heero chose to go with the emotion's pull. He could hardly tell Trowa to live by his emotions and not make a living example of that philosophy of himself! //I suppose talking to her now and then while I'm here can't hurt. Maybe it will help her--and, in turn, us!// "I'm part of this new alliance," he confirmed. "If you've accepted our proposal, or idea, then I will be here often."  
  
A slightly sorrowful but pleased smile touched her lips. "I /do/ accept it, Heero. We have no other choice. . . And thank you."  
  
//Quatre said Zechs said the same thing. . . No choice but her. Why? I need to understand this.//  
  
Her eyes dropped back to the letter, and with one hand, she tentatively touched the name at the bottom, as if uncertainly reaching out to a new- found relative. . . or a ghost. "Thank you. . . ," she repeated--meaning for the letter.  
  
Heero eyed the letter musingly, intrigue perked, as if hoping it would give him some kind of hint just what so amazing gift it contained that so confused the girl, then nodded briskly and followed Pagan out.  
  
//I will find Zechs's secrets. Duo's right,// Heero decided firmly, striding off to find the other Gundam pilot. //Something about this is too important. . . But why is he keeping things from us? It doesn't fit that he'd hide something vital to this mission--I know he's as set on making this successful as I am--so why is he guarding these things? Unless he doesn't think they are vital to this. . . or there's something dangerous behind them, dangerous to someone. . . Dangerous to who?//  
  
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Miri couldn't help shivering more the longer he stayed in the old palace. Conflicting memories kept colliding in his head until they almost blinded him, and he couldn't ward them off fast enough to keep himself in the present continuously. Good memories, bad, neutral, they didn't care to give him time to sort, let alone choose if he wanted to recall them fully or not. One or another would slip past his struggling defenses, blind him to his surroundings, then leave him shaking to the aftershocks of seeing the ruins of the present.  
  
He was past wishing they would stop, that his memories would leave him alone. Such wishes were a waste of conscious effort, and right now he had his hands full.  
  
A distant part of his mind sighed that the last time he had visited had been not near this traumatizing. . .  
  
//I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry. . . I'm /sorry/!// Miri wanted to shout that out loud, in vain hope that the sheer volume of that apology would chase his ghosts away finally and earn him some breathing space, let alone a little peace. But instead, he was standing there, wrapped up as if chilled, hiding behind his bangs and shivering, eyes closed from the sheer effort of wishing that apology to some higher power.  
  
A hope for forgiveness. . .  
  
But no answer was forthcoming, no sign. None ever had before, and he hardly expected any now.  
  
Zechs didn't know what he was expecting, to be honest. He couldn't escape what he had done--the past could not be corrected. He couldn't change his path--there was no return, as far as he could see. And now he stood here before the only judgment that he could imagine might free him, a wreck of a man, a ruin of a child, a failure of a son. . . in the faint hope of understanding how far he was to fall apart. . . in the faint hope of not unraveling entirely. . .  
  
With witnesses to boot. He still had his memories of blood on his hands blinding his eyes, but he could feel that presence standing nearby.  
  
//Wufei, the fifth Gundam pilot. . . You can see what I am--are you disgusted? /I/ am. . .// Concentrating on Wufei helped him fix on his present surroundings, and facing the Gundam pilot's reaction was much more appealing than enduring the onslaught of his memories. //I remember too much. . . Kill me or condemn me, it's better than this, more merciful than this!//  
  
"The weak shouldn't fight," the Chinese pilot murmured abruptly.  
  
Miri wanted to laugh. Only he had the feeling that if he began, he wouldn't stop short of a straightjacket and padded walls, or hitting a note more terrifying than Lady Une's. So he choked to his reaction to a strangled cough of a chuckle. "Then find me someone strong," he answered. "I'll give this battle--/all/ my battles!--to them. . ." //I'd have given it to them long ago. . .//  
  
"Maybe it's the fight that makes us strong," Wufei continued, turning to face him with arms folded across his chest.  
  
Shaking his head in silent disagreement, Zechs stepped over to the wall so he could lean his back against something. He felt too shaky to feel secure about his footing, and too uncertain about his vision to trust himself not to fall through some hole in the floor if the memories took too strong a hold over his body. //I doubt it. . . I feel weaker than ever. . .// Images of flames and smoke darkened his vision again. . . He could just see this hall again, flames licking at tapestries, chewing up paintings like a child attacking cotton candy, see burning plastered pieces of ceiling smash onto the floor in a shower of sparks. . .  
  
Wufei frowned, and his expression carried into his voice. "You may be stronger than you think."  
  
//I can't think, so how can I be strong?// Miri laughed to himself despairingly, tickled by the irony. //These memories are killing me. . . I'm drowning here in the fires of my past. . .// The scent of smoke and blood and death, the warmth of the fires and rumbles of gunfire and explosions, all were so vivid. . .  
  
"I remember. . . too much. . ." Zechs barely recognized the voice for his own, the quiet, broken plea in it so unfamiliar--a child's hopeless whisper, a man's helpless whimper.  
  
"Why did you come here, in this state?" returned Wufei softly. "You knew it would do this to you. . ."  
  
//I couldn't take it, the agonizing slowness of my destruction--but this is still too slow! Just a quick death of who I am, not this, please. . . please. . PLEASE!// "I wanted. . . wanted to. . . to finish this--if I /must/ change, better now and face it. . . face /me/. . . No time later. . ."  
  
A hand fell on the boy's shoulder, pressing his back to the wall, forcing him to raise his head to look up at Wufei through a haze of painful memories. Dark eyes bore into Zechs's own firmly for a long minute. . .  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
Dark eyes staring into his own, gently seeking. . .  
  
//**Pale flames licking at the sky, fanned by the ocean winds, glowing in the dark of night, as a city burns below him, the view from the cliff outside, as he stands there, numb and dead inside--**//  
  
"Who are you?" Was that voice worried, concerned?  
  
//**Red rage, the misty spread of the blood of a dying man in the ocean's currents, and the shock of a blast of bubbling fuel-fed flames as he rips a Cancer apart with Tallgeese's bare hands, his furious roar reverberating inside the cockpit around him--**//  
  
Something shook him distantly, and he felt his head strike the wall behind him dimly, his eyes glazed and staring. "Who are you?!?" came the cry, a far-off scream trying to reach him.  
  
//**"Who are you?" spoken to a shattered image in the spider-webbing of broken glass that once was a house's window--the image of a boy in bedraggled, dirty, bloodstained clothes, staring back without recognition, as rain starts to fall, thunder rumbling in the background. The boy in the glass reaches up one hand to the sky blindly, tears mingling with the rain, as if asking the lightening to strike him, to end this impossible question, to finish off a lingering death mercifully, to give a fitting end to a terrible sin. . .  
  
A lance from heaven, a flash of lightening appears in the distance behind him, giving the impression that it gave itself to his hand, for his use. for /what/ use? The boy in the reflection lowers his hand, looking from his own shattered image to his bloodstained palm, thoughts resolving as the rain slowly increases, plastering his hair flat. . .**//  
  
"Miri," he breathed.  
  
The wall of memories seemed to dissolve around him, and Zechs blinked once, focusing on Wufei's nearly shadow-shrouded dark eyes so close to his own. //This cannot fully destroy me,// he realized slowly. //Miri, Zechs, . . . just never Milliardo Peacecraft ever again, not at heart, though perhaps in name. But still /me/, even if a new mix of what I've been and what I've become. . .//  
  
"Who's /that/?" Wufei asked incredulously, as if horrified by the notion that the former prince had yet /another/ alias.  
  
Miri chuckled faintly, a hint of a smile tugging his lips. "Zechs Merquise without the mask, nothing more," he reassured.  
  
"You're back, then," Wufei murmured gruffly, releasing the boy's shoulders, glaring. "This was a dangerous idea."  
  
//Coming here? Yes,// Miri accepted with a silent nod, reaching a hand to rub at one of his shoulders. Wufei's grip had hurt. //But it was necessary.// The memories weren't gone--he could feel them waiting in the background, sharp and detailed and painful as a barbed whip that had been stayed for the moment. Driving him like a whip. //I have some control over them now. . . I understand now. . . Not all, no. But more than when we arrived here.//  
  
Ice blue eyes glowed a bit in the dim light of evening as they fixed on Wufei for a long moment before offering quietly, "This had to be resolved-- now, not later. . . Wufei. . ."  
  
The Gundam pilot blinked, uncertain, confused, and scowled a bit more, as if expecting some task to be asked of him.  
  
"Thank you. . ." //For asking a question I couldn't voice anymore, but had to hear.//  
  
Wufei's frown reestablished itself thoughtfully. Then, gruffly, Shenlong's pilot whirled, and stalked back to the base of the painting, grabbing something before thrusting it out to Zechs.  
  
A familiar brass picture-frame book, tarnished and stained.  
  
//Leaving it with more people prowling about here would be unwise, I guess,// Zechs admitted to himself. He accepted it with a silent nod. //I suppose I'm no better than the relic-hunters who were just here. . . taking a memento of the past. . . Maybe I could ask Pagan to give it to Relena, though. It is rightfully hers. . . but not until we do something about my appearance.//  
  
Those dark eyes held his still, though, demanding something more. "Show it to Sally," Wufei stated firmly. "She needs to know."  
  
Miri glanced down at the battered metal in his hands. "It endangers you, you know. It will endanger her, too." //The more who know, the greater the danger. From Dermail, from any of the soldiers remaining who participated in that slaughter, . . . from me, to keep the Peacecraft name and Relena safe, to succeed at this venture--this redeeming dream of peace. If this comes out now, Relena's position will be undermined--my Father's sacrifice will be for almost nothing! I don't know if I would kill to keep secret my dishonor. . . but for your sake, I hope it doesn't come to a test.//  
  
"I know. She will understand, too," Shenlong's pilot answered quietly, firmly, accepting the risks, including the unspoken but clear threat in Zechs's words.  
  
"So be it."  
  
Together, they walked out of the hall, careful to avoid unstable portions of ceiling or floor or wall, retracing Wufei's earlier course through the ruins.  
  
Memories swirled at the periphery of Miri's thoughts, like a cloud of tormenting insects waiting for the chance to bite, but no longer able to easily get past a guard of mental slaps. Focusing on the floor by his feet and the sound of Wufei's footsteps, he trailed a little behind the Gundam pilot. . . until they emerged outside at the remains of the front steps.  
  
Wufei had stopped there, and was looking thoughtfully off to the east, where the sea met the sky on the horizon.  
  
//Looking for a far off dawn. . . That is what we're chasing, isn't it? A distant dream.//  
  
"It feels so far away from here," Shenlong's pilot admitted quietly. "Is it really any closer than when you last stood here?"  
  
//A far off dream of peace. . . /Are/ we any closer? I can but hope so.//  
  
"From here, it's always a far off dawn," Zechs whispered softly.  
  
//Hope lies over the horizon. . .//  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
Duo scratched the back of his head and sighed softly. //I wish I had a clue how to do this,// he admitted to himself glumly. //I'm generally better at putting these things together than looking around on something as insubstantial as their data contents. . .//  
  
Search engines weren't his type.  
  
//Give me a mobile suit's engine, or a boat's propeller, or hell, even a tricycle, and it's more my area of expertise! This. . . is Heero's.//  
  
Quatre, behind him, had drifted away from monitoring over Duo's shoulder to exploring the library's paper contents. And it had plenty to keep him busy- -apparently, the former owner of this place liked the classics, collected first editions, and kept copies of everything written on the area's history. . . which, considering Sanc was a European country, extended somewhere into the dawn of recorded history. Probably so he could keep control over all mentions of the Royal Family's massacre.  
  
"Say, Duo. . . some of these books might have what we need," the blonde Gundam pilot suggested in the background.  
  
//Let's try "M. Merquise". . .// "Do we even know what we need?" he asked back absently.  
  
"Well, what are you trying to use?" Quatre answered, flipping pages audibly behind him.  
  
Duo released his breath in a sigh at the familiar screen popping before him. //"No results by that name. Try a different spelling. . ." Ah hell. How much do you bet there's no "Milliardo Merquise" out there? So the last name's false, too. . . But we don't have a last name to go on!//  
  
Glaring at the blinking screen, Duo grumbled, "Quatre, all I've been able to pick up from him and Treize is that his name is fake, his real /first/ name is Milliardo, and that he's close to the Royals. Probably some minister's family or other. . . In any case, he lived near enough to witness the massacre. But that's /all/."  
  
Sandrock's pilot flipped through a couple more pages. "That's not a lot to go on, Duo. . . But /maybe/ there's a telephone directory or something of the old city. . ."  
  
"No, that wouldn't do." Frowning, Deathscythe's pilot rubbed the back of his neck. //What else can I try? Sanc, Milliardo, Minister of the Peace? Hey, that might work. . .// Fingers typed away swiftly. //I know there was a position by that name. . .// "He was a kid at the time, and besides, if his family /was/ big in the government, they wouldn't have a listed number. Anyway, how would we know, even if his parents were? No last name to go on. . . Heck, if we had a last name for Zechs, we'd be done by now, I bet!"  
  
A soft sigh behind him. "I suppose. . . Well, if his family was important in the government, then surely there's a photo of them with the Royal Family, right? I can try that angle--there are a /lot/ of pictures of them, with just about everyone down to the palace staff. . ."  
  
//No luck, just articles. And names don't help without some kind of pictures to match to Zechs. . . Damn it! I wish he'd just tell us!// Making an exasperated face at the screen, Duo leaned back in his seat again, thinking furiously. //Hell, I'm running out of ideas. . .//  
  
"I think that's a good place to start," someone quietly answered Quatre from the doorway.  
  
//Heero?// Duo glanced over his shoulder to eye Wing's pilot. //Good--you can help us. This is /your/ kind of thing, after all: hacking information.// "Thank God it's you. I'm out of ideas, but this really isn't my specialty, you know," he admitted with relief.  
  
Quatre had also turned, and was beaming brightly at Heero with a heavy book open in his hands. "Can you help us, Heero? Zechs isn't the type to share his past easily, and I feel it's rather important in this place. . ."  
  
The surly pilot pushed off the doorjamb and walked towards Duo and the computer, face expressionless. "More than that," he stated with soft frustration. "It impacts the politics through Relena. . . We need to know what's going on, and what we're in here. Treize isn't telling, and Zechs may be in no shape to. Those memories were impacting him dangerously when we last saw him, Duo."  
  
Something chilling stirred in Duo's guts as he stood to relinquish his seat. //Damn. . . That's true--I just hope he's not getting any worse while we're doing this. And heck, if his past impacts things so much, we damn well better keep an eye on Treize--and the only way to watch what he's up to is by knowing!// "Then it's vital we find out. . ."  
  
"Yes." Heero dropped into Duo's vacancy and began typing away with a slight glower of concentration. "What were you working with?" he asked blandly, eyes scanning a listing of Duo's last failed attempts.  
  
Rubbing the back of his head, Duo shrugged. "Less than we wish. I know his real first name is Milliardo, because Treize uses it when they're talking in private. From the way those two act, you can pick up that as a kid, Zechs must have been close enough to the massacre somehow to have figured out the Alliance was behind it--thus the bad memories. And from talking to him, he admitted he had some kind of responsibility for the people of Sanc. . . my guess is some kind of position of power, probably held by his parents. Other than that, we've just his description and age. . ."  
  
//I wish we had more. Sanc has a lot of blondes, it seems. . . Maybe not near-white, like him, but that could be /just/ him in his family.//  
  
A silent nod answered Duo, as Heero frowned, deliberately typing carefully. . .  
  
Duo peered over Heero's shoulder, curious what the other Gundam pilot was using for his search. . .  
  
"He was thought of a dead in the massacre, or the destruction of the city after," Heero pointed out, hands pausing. He looked over his shoulder at Duo. "Is this the correct spelling?"  
  
Duo blinked.  
  
//The hell if I know.// "I. . . guess. . . I never saw it written down, Heero. Just spoken."  
  
Heero hit Enter.  
  
The screen returned what Duo was dreading. . . //And this is why I did /not/ use this for my search!// "Heero, there must be a good hundred Milliardos in Sanc. . ."  
  
Wing's pilot glared at the filled screen that threatened to continue on for a good dozen more pages at least. "So I see," he grumbled. "But we can narrow this down, I think. . ."  
  
//That's what I've been trying for the past couple hours,// Duo groaned to himself, turning away to lend Quatre a hand with the photos. //The question is /how/ to narrow it down!//  
  
Bent over a book, Quatre's shoulders were. . . shaking?  
  
//What the. . . ?//  
  
The book's pages flopped softly with the blonde's smothered amusement.  
  
Duo cast Quatre a mild glare and picked up a book on recent Sanc history. "Quatre, just shut up. . ."  
  
When Trowa walked in fifteen minutes later, Quatre was still laughing helplessly over the same book.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
To be continued.  
  
I promise, I will return to SOG, but I'm on a bit of a roll here. It ends after the next chapter, I think. . . 


	22. If One And One Make Two

That's Childish, So Childish. . .  
  
Chapter Twenty-Two: If One And One Make Two. . .  
  
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Disclaimer--I don't own GW, nor GQ, nor any other combination of letters out there. . . I wonder why?  
  
Warnings--Okay, last chapter's warnings didn't apply much. But hey, better overkill than under, right? In any case, here we go: angst, confusion, surprise, some cursing, and a number of threats that may or may not get carried out. . . we'll see.  
  
Well, easy to guess: the Gundam pilots--and others--finally make a breakthrough on Zechs's identity. And he stumbles across them in time to notice. Two ex-Ozzies contemplate after.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -  
  
"Aaaaannndddd. . . we're back to square one," Duo sighed, straddling the seat of a backwards chair next to Heero and eyeing the computer's current position glumly. //Back to the list of every person in Sanc with the name Milliardo. . . I hope Trowa brings dinner soon, though by now it's probably a midnight snack. I'm getting hungry. Or maybe we should just give up for now, for today, and just go find beds to fall into. . .//  
  
"Hn," Heero grunted, eyeing the screen with loathing. Slowly, he scrolled down, blue gaze narrowed sharply to each name he examined.  
  
//Going through these one by one will take nigh forever! Is he going to try it? Yeesh, I bet even if Quatre and I go, he'll stay here until he gets something!// Deathscythe's pilot wondered with growing horror. "Well, hey, you have to admit--Zechs apparently did a damn good job of hiding his true identity!" he conceded.  
  
"Or it's right under our noses," Wing's pilot returned grimly. "He's smart. The best place to hide is--"  
  
"--Right in plain sight," Quatre finished for him without turning, frowning over a book of old newspaper clippings of big events in Sanc. "You know. . . Maybe we're going about this wrong. What if he was part of the Royal Family?"  
  
Duo frowned, and looked over his shoulder at the blonde's stooped back. "Part of it? I think the soldiers would have made sure all of them were dead before leaving, surely. . ." //Though we can't be sure of that. But how could anyone escape that perimeter of killers?//  
  
"Relena survived," Heero pointed out, his glare at the screen turning to a thoughtful frown. Quickly he began a new search. . .  
  
//"Millardo" and "Royal Family"?// Duo scratched the back of his head. "So, you think he's some kind of cousin, then? That'd explain his pull in this place. . ."  
  
The search engine was stubborn, and spat out some kind of error. Heero's teeth ground audibly.  
  
Duo winced, and edged away slowly, keeping a wary eye on Heero. //Okay. . . I'm just. . . going to keep my distance here. . . Don't want to be too close when you get mad enough to destroy that computer, Heero!//  
  
"Huh!"  
  
Heero paused in his attempts to deal with that error by coding his way around it, fingers freezing for an instant. "Find something?"  
  
//A photo?// Duo twisted in his seat to smile hopefully at the blonde. "Any luck?" he asked Quatre eagerly. //Pleeeeease? We've been at this half the day!//  
  
Quatre, looking a bit puzzled, strode over with the heavy book in hand, thrusting it onto the desk next to Heero's elbow. "Well," he hazarded, "I'm not sure--the caption's cut off--but doesn't this boy look amazingly like Zechs does right now?"  
  
All eyes fell on the picture at the tail of the article on the page. The headline announced the birth of the new Princess of Sanc, with text muttering about happy parents, a happy nation, and bright quotes from various nobility, world leaders, and relatives. . . but the bottom of the article, as well as the caption for the picture, were cut off in order to fit it to the page.  
  
The picture depicted a young boy, dressed neatly, pale hair a fluffy, almost curly mass around his face, his mouth open in delight and eyes stuck on the squirming bundle in his arms--a bundle of young Princess, likely, who was cooing and cute, and probably quite a handful for a kid his size and age. But the boy's face--and if that hair was the right shade--was so very familiar that the regressed Oz pilot they knew could have been a mirror image. . . for all that his hair was much straighter and longer now. . . and they had never seen him this joyful.  
  
//That /must/ be him!// Duo exclaimed to himself. "Either that's his twin brother, or I think you found him, Quatre!" he admitted gleefully.  
  
Heero, frowning at the picture, abruptly lost his expression, eyes widening- -and, whirling back to the computer, attacked the keyboard with a vengeance. Obviously, some new suggestion had struck his mind like a ten- ton mobile suit carrier.  
  
Duo shifted his concern from Quatre's inspiring article to watch Heero's new efforts with some worried. //Hell, he looks like he has some new idea, but the way he's stabbing those keys is rather frightening. . .//  
  
Sandrock's pilot continued standing close to Duo's shoulder, reading the article slowly, puzzling through it to identify the boy in the picture. . .  
  
//"Millardo" and "Peacecraft"?!? Heck, if there are so many in Sanc, I imagine there will be at least two in /that/ huge family!// Duo blinked at Heero's new idea, and shook his head in slow disappointment. //It won't-- //  
  
Only one thing popped up.  
  
One name.  
  
The resulting silence made even Quatre lift his head. "Then. . . he /is/ a Peacecraft. . . ," he breathed in surprise.  
  
Duo stared numbly, all thoughts on hold at the arrival of this disbelieved possibility entering his brainwaves. //Then he /is/ part of the Royal Family!//  
  
"Only one way to be sure," Heero murmured, selecting the name.  
  
A familiar boy appeared, a bit younger than they knew him, this time in flashier, more dignified white-and-blue apparel, half hiding behind someone in ermine-edged robes. That pale hair gleamed a familiar silvery-blonde. Those icy eyes were still determined, but uncertain, shy, not yet haunted, not yet hidden by long bangs. . . innocent.  
  
The name beneath it, however, knocked the breath out of all three boys with stunning force. . .  
  
Crown Prince, Prince Millardo Peacecraft of Sanc.  
  
"Great Allah. . . ," a stunned Quatre murmured. "It's. . . he's. . . /him/!"  
  
"Holy shit!" //But. . . /how/? How the heck could he have survived?!?//  
  
"Now I understand. . . ," Heero whispered.  
  
"/I/ sure as hell don't!" Duo exclaimed, flabbergasted. //But if /he's/ the crown prince, why is /she/ ruling the country?!?//  
  
"But it /does/ explain a lot, doesn't it?" a fourth voice butted in.  
  
//Sally Po?//  
  
All three whirled towards the door, startled, to find Sally eyeing the screen with eyebrows still slowly recovering their former positions. She pushed off the doorway with a faint chuckle, walking over to lean over Heero's shoulder for a closer look. "No, no doubt about it. . . this became Oz's best mobile suit pilot. . . But then, that would be the last place the Alliance might hunt him, isn't it? Their own ranks? A /pacifist/?"  
  
//But. . . "I am not a pacifist!" He emphasized that rather firmly on Heero's shins!// Duo blinked, and exchanged looks with Heero, noting that Wing's pilot must have recalled that same quote.  
  
"Missing, no trace found, presumed dead in the fire," Quatre read quietly, scrolling down on the screen. . . "Allah only knows what happened that night, what it did to him."  
  
Other eyes returned to the picture and short paragraph of biographical information underneath it. //My God, he must have seen them shooting--they might even have hit him! A little kid, in all that--// "'Have to get out; there's no-one left'. . . ?" Duo quoted softly.  
  
Sally frowned at him. "Where did you hear that?" she demanded firmly.  
  
Heero glared at Duo almost accusingly, as if stating that even that little additional information might have cut their search-time down by a few hours. Quatre merely blinked, curious but not surprised--perhaps he recalled that Duo had spent some time keeping an eye on the boy.  
  
"I watched him when he arrived. Zechs spoke in his sleep--in his nightmares--those words. Repeated them. I thought later it was just what a kid in a burning building might say, but hey--the whole city went up in flames here, remember?" Duo sighed, propping head on hand and elbow on Quatre's article-book. //My God. . . those nightmares. . . They must be horrible. . . and every night!//  
  
"'Have to get out'. . . ," Sally repeated thoughtfully, her saddened expression back on the picture.  
  
//"I'm sorry. . . A coward, I'm such a coward. . ." Why? For surviving?// Duo frowned at that innocent picture, trying to wring answers from it by the power of his gaze alone. "Survivor's guilt?" he asked the empty air musingly.  
  
"No," Sally stated behind him firmly. "That's not enough of an explanation for half of what he's done. Zechs Merquise is almost the complete antithesis to Milliardo Peacecraft. Something bigger than guilt alone changed that. . ."  
  
//I'm not so sure,// Duo decided, peering up at her through coppery bangs.  
  
Quatre echoed him. "I don't know, Sally. . . I can. . . Well, I can feel things about people--Duo can tell you, or Rashid. Any mention of Sanc left only. . . guilt and pain and. . ." The gentle blonde trailed off, frowning a moment at the floor, before daring to meet her eyes with surprise at his recollection as he added in a whisper, ". . . and shame."  
  
//"I'm sorry. . ." For what?// "For what?" he repeated for the others to hear. "Something must have happened there, something more than just the massacre of the Royal Family."  
  
"A reason to give up the throne to Relena," Heero added softly. "He doesn't want it. He didn't want her to know he lived unless he had to. . . Better dead than alive with--what?--over his head. . . He doesn't want /us/ to know. . ."  
  
//What could be so awful he decides to become someone completely new and unrelated to those he loves, and used to love?// "Could seeking revenge be so terrible?" Duo tried.  
  
Sally shrugged slightly. "Maybe. . . to a pacifist. . ." But she sounded dubious about it.  
  
Quatre shook his head. "I don't think so. We're talking a sudden change, to make him want to bloody his hands. . ."  
  
"You make it sound like a choice," reprimanded a quiet voice.  
  
//Oh shit--he's been listening to us! How much did he hear?// Duo fought a shudder at the thought of future pranks striking in retribution, and slowly, with some trepidation, turned to look at the library doors. //If he feels so strongly about keeping this shame-thing hidden, he'll be furious for us finding out!//  
  
Zechs stood there solemnly in the doorway, expressionless though his jaws were clenched, a familiar scowling young Chinese man looming behind him like a pet shadow. //I swear, I saw this guy before. . .//  
  
"Wufei, you found him," Sally observed with a faint smile, bringing the tension down a small notch.  
  
//This is our fifth Gundam pilot? Yeah, now that you mention it, he looks like the guy from New Edwards!// Duo blinked, and offered a tentative wave. "Erm. . . Hi, Zechs. . . And you must be Wufei. . ."  
  
Icy blue eyes swept over all of them, taking in Quatre's blush, Sally's calm and friendly smile, Heero's stony accusing glare, Duo's embarrassed grin. Rage flared in those eyes, but even as they watched, it sank into a wave of pain and withdrawal, before the boy's head dipped, hiding them under long bangs. Hiding--his main self-defense.  
  
Duo fought the sudden urge to get up and hug the boy. //Hell, he'd give /me/ singing daisies for that. . . But by God, he looks like he needs it!// But he stood slowly, worried. . . wanting to do /something/. . . just not sure what was safe to try.  
  
"Why?" Heero asked into the heavy silence.  
  
Slowly, Zechs's head lifted, that haunted look back in his expression, and turned to leave. But he paused, not moving to face them, only to answer, "Some transgressions in this world we can never be forgiven for. . . because the only rightful judges of our sins cannot answer us on this earth. . ."  
  
//I don't understand. . .// Duo stared as the pale boy vanished off into the hall, his footsteps a mere whisper echoing off the walls and filling the ensuing silence as it grew more and more distant. . .  
  
"I don't understand," Quatre whispered, echoing their thoughts. "What transgressions could be so evil that he condemns himself so utterly?"  
  
Sally straightened, and strode for the door, only to be stopped by Wufei's arm.  
  
"Let him be, onna," the Chinese man murmured.  
  
//What?// Duo frowned. "Hey, Sally's a doctor--"  
  
The man glared at him with sharp dark eyes. Sally shook her head at Duo negatively. "It's alright, Duo. . . Why, Wufei? He's suicidal. . ."  
  
//Oh shit!!!// Duo could feel his eyes threatening to pop out of his head, and heard Heero's chair scrape as the other pilot jumped to his feet.  
  
"Not any more so than before this," Wufei returned calmly. "He will make sure this mission, this alliance, reaches its goals first."  
  
Deathscythe's pilot shuddered, and he glanced at Heero warily. "Sounds rather like you," he growled accusingly at Wing's pilot. //This had better not be the influence of /your/ attempted suicide, Heero!//  
  
Heero merely blinked and spread his hands in a helpless "don't blame /me/" gesture.  
  
Sally stared at her opponent a moment, then stepped back a pace. "I see. . . But you know more than we do, too, I think."  
  
"I have. . . some ideas," the Chinese Gundam pilot admitted hesitantly.  
  
"We're not leaving him alone until I know, Wufei--for /his/ sake!" she returned sharply, establishing her authority as a doctor with folded arms and a glare, showing a temper for the first time since the other pilots met her.  
  
Wufei wavered visibly, glancing the way Zechs had gone. . .  
  
//Just tell us already!// "Wufei--this affects the alliance, even if he doesn't think it does!" Duo blurted insistently. "And we just want to help him!"  
  
Dark eyes flicked to Quatre suddenly, as the owner decided finally with a quiet grunt. "You said it already," Wufei stated grimly. "Blood on his hands. . . but with less choice than you think, especially if it was the night this city first fell. . ."  
  
//He. . . /killed/ someone that night?//  
  
"But he was at most maybe seven years at the time--a mere kid!" Quatre burst out in horror.  
  
//A mere kid. . . A kid. . . A kid who can fly adult-killing mobile suits as a kid.// "A kid who stole mobile suits and flew a damaged transport plane. . . A kid who flew Tallgeese against a fleet of Aries. . .!" Duo reminded them all slowly. "A kid. . ."  
  
". . . Who is not really a kid, if he managed that," Heero finished quietly.  
  
"A killer." All eyes fell on Quatre at those words. "I think. . . I understand now. I disowned myself because my family prefers pacifism--and I had to fight. I don't think my father will be able to forgive me. Not for taking lives, for any reason. That's what pacifism is made of--the principle that all lives are so precious that it is better to let them take yours than to commit the horrible act of taking someone else's. . ."  
  
//My God, Zechs. . . surely you understand that someone has to defend people. . . Wait a minute. . . ! "The people come first"?// Things clicked together finally. "That's it. Zechs killed--for his people. No- one else indeed! Nobody else would protect them, and that's his job! And in order to be able to do so, he killed. . . himself. . . Prince Milliardo Peacecraft is dead, so the Lightening Count could retaliate--revenge and rescue!"  
  
Quatre made a face and stared with dread at the picture on the screen, at that idea and what /he/ could so easily become. Heero grimaced, mind whirling away at things hidden and the implications of this news, piecing things together that he had seen, trying to figure where Relena fit in. Sally closed her eyes with a painful sigh, probably sensing her work was cut out for her. Wufei closed his eyes, drawing on some inward calm.  
  
Duo blinked away dampness threatening his eyes, and turned his gaze back to the picture on the screen, his mind overlaying haunted eyes over those shy innocent ones.  
  
//At what price, Zechs. . . ? Your identity? Your life. . . ? Your /soul/? I won't let you sell the last, though you obviously think you have! There's a soul still in you. . . a noble soul that Quatre spoke of, hurt and driven. . .//  
  
//I won't let you vanish into the darkness.//  
  
//Hey, now rescuing /souls/, now /that's/ the job of good old Shinigami!//  
  
And Duo Maxwell smiled slowly, with grim determination. . .  
  
Then the smile fell with sudden realization.  
  
"Oh hell--you /know/ this means he's going to pull something ruthless on the lot of us now!" L2's God of Death groaned in horror to his friends, burying his face in his hands. "We should have gotten a promise from him about no more pranks while we still had a chance!"  
  
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Zechs sat on the roof just outside the topmost window, arms on his bent knees and knees almost to chest, staring out at the horizon he and Wufei had contemplated earlier. Here, memories gave him some respite, as only sea and stars filled his eyes, nothing to cue them, nothing terrible associated with them. Just the quiet and peace of the sharp ocean breeze, the salty scent of night. . .  
  
//Alone again. . . Former friends will now wish to keep their distance, avoid the mess that is my life and any chance of getting caught up in this, my insanity. . . ,// Miri mused resignedly. //Perhaps I've just single- handedly destroyed the one alliance that could have ended this--and all by foolishly using the only resource I could think of--Relena.//  
  
"Princess. . . ," he whispered to himself, a sad smile touching his lips. Zechs closed his eyes, remembering the last time he had spoken her, and relishing the memory.  
  
//A knight on a fiery dragon? I wish! No, just a fallen Prince. . . a reluctant ghost. I have paths to haunt before I can fade, but I do not wish to haunt--and hurt--you. . .// He could feel that smile slipping away, and opened his eyes to the east again, waiting. . .  
  
//There's something about the sunrise that gives hope when all else feels lost. Would that I could leave such a legacy, like Father did. . . and probably Relena will. But my fate seems to be much more disappointing to the world.//  
  
Miri chuckled faintly. "Perhaps not everyone, though." //Noin would probably disagree with my opinion. . . Perhaps Treize would, too.//  
  
"If you are referring to your choice of perches, Milliardo, I'm rather inclined to agree," Treize's voice returned from the window. "Not /everyone/ enjoys risky heights like you do."  
  
Zechs smiled warmly to himself, not turning, though he could hear the older man carefully clambering out onto the roof and cautiously sitting on the tiles nearby. //That's right--I don't think you used to like these heights much. Now playing with birds on the ground, that is more your style. . . You always preferred Leos--but then, so did I. Mainly because I love free- fall, and that's not the same in an Aries. . .//  
  
Treize grunted beside him. "I /do/ suppose the sea is pretty by moonlight. . . but I rather doubt that's why you're up here."  
  
//Yes. . . and no.// Miri rested his chin on his forearms, watching the waves ripple from the horizon. "My memories aren't so fierce up here," he admitted with quiet pleasure. "And the view offers hope when none can be found elsewhere. . ."  
  
"You always had hope before. What now?"  
  
"They found out."  
  
Treize stayed silent. . .  
  
"They know who I once was, Treize. . ."  
  
"They seemed a compassionate bunch to me."  
  
"Even saints can feel pity, disappointment, or disgust, Treize."  
  
"Will you judge them, then, before they can denounce you?" the older man asked with a slight smile.  
  
Zechs frowned slightly. //I didn't think of it that way. He may be right. . .// "It feels safer," he acknowledged, considering the implications of those words.  
  
A soft sigh beside him. "Milliardo. . . that is a child's way of thinking."  
  
//Yes, I just realized.// Miri smiled wryly and shook his head, long hair flickering in the moonlight. "Childish, isn't it?" he chuckled.  
  
"Very," Treize returned drolly.  
  
"Very well, then. . . I'm up here because I don't want to face them and answer a good million questions." But he said it with a smile. //I know the other was childish, too. But the same could be said of various things I did as an adult, too.//  
  
Darker blue eyes rolled at him. "I know you well enough by now that you don't have to lie to satisfy me, my friend. I can see through the lies all too well by now."  
  
Zechs smiled contentedly and leaned back against the slope of the roof, hands moving behind his head. //I knew it wouldn't deceive you, Treize.// "Fine. I'm here because I don't want to see their reactions. It was easier to cut and run. . . though I think I left at a dignified walk, really. . ."  
  
A heavy sigh answered him. "Milliardo. . ."  
  
"Zechs," Miri corrected with quiet conviction, suddenly serious again. //It's better that way. Dorothy may not be the only one with ears here.// "The King is dead; long live the Princess. . ."  
  
"Zechs, then. . ."  
  
"And don't call me 'Colonel', either. . . Surely Acht managed to get me officially demoted by now."  
  
"Zechs. . . !" Treize growled warningly.  
  
Zechs smiled slyly, not antagonizing his former superior further. //You're not the only one who enjoys these games, Treize. You taught them to me, after all!//  
  
The older man sighed with drawn-out breath, languishing into silence a moment, before gently inquiring, "Are you alright?"  
  
"Well enough, considering the circumstances," the boy admitted quietly, looking up at the stars suspended overhead. //Better than I expected, really, after confronting my past. . .//  
  
"They probably think you're suicidal or mad, you know."  
  
Miri chuckled softly at the idea. "No more than they are. . . unless you're referring to 'mad' as in 'furious' at certain people." //Dermail dies. End of story. Now to determine just /how/. . .//  
  
Treize's head was a darker shadow in the moonlight, bobbing in a slow nod. "I thought as much. . . Have you any idea where you will factor in?"  
  
//Some ideas come to mind. . . But first, perhaps I should raid the library. Their digging about makes me wonder what else might lie there. . . Commander O'Negul may have hidden records--and if I can find those. . . ! Proof Dermail was behind it. Proof O'Negul was following orders. . .//  
  
"I always find my role, Treize," he stated with reassuring amusement. //And /you're/ the one who likes to use the imagery of a play when referring to this war!//  
  
"True," the older man agreed, smirking and folding his own hands behind his head so he, too, could watch the stars above.  
  
//Proof that would help Relena secure peace. . . is it possible?//  
  
"However, I'm not letting the final curtain descend until I have a chance to finish the fireworks. . . ," Zechs added with a slow, dark smile.  
  
//Doesn't matter--the Lightening Count will strike again, somehow, even if I have to order extra telephone books and backscratchers!//  
  
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To be continued.  
  
Does anyone but me realize a tie between Zechs's character-song and Annie singing "The sun'll come out tomorrow."? The main difference being that the point of view of the first is a bit more despairing, and the other almost overly optimistic? 


	23. You're Much Too Kind

That's Childish, So Childish. . .  
  
Chapter Twenty-Three: You're Much Too Kind. . .  
  
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Disclaimer--Don't own GW. Just enjoy the perks without the hassle of turning away all the other fans demanding the opportunity to buy the rights. ;)  
  
Notes: Sorry to be so slow getting this chapter done. Between a sudden overload of projects requiring a fair portion of creative BS, Finals, and pulled tendons half-ruining my elbow (how do you type without leaning on something?!?), it's slow going right now (especially as the elbow's gonna take at least a month to be good enough to lean on again). But hey, I haven't stopped! And I finally figured out how Dermail is to die. Yay. :)  
  
Warnings--Perhaps mild swearing (just by me at the end). A touch of sadness. Some perkiness. . . to annoying extents. Reasons why Disney should never be substituted for a babysitter. Or Relena, for that matter.  
  
Zechs heads for bed, and runs into a shadow who wants answers. Architecture is briefly studied. Relena almost throws a monkey-wrench into the alliance. . . and causes the first fight between siblings, ever! Well, kinda, anyway. . . Duo gets glomphed.  
  
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Duo heard the door click shut quietly, and leaned his back heavily against the window. Quiet, tired steps rustled beyond his field of vision, the accompanying hiss of cloth suggesting that the room's owner was intent on getting to bed.  
  
//I wonder if I'm wrong, and he'll try sleeping in bed tonight. Then I'll have to go to him. . . I don't want to startle him, though--I just want to talk. Yeah, talk--God, Duo, the kid barely talks already, and now you want the impossible out of him! But he /needs/ to talk. . .//  
  
Dark blue eyes flicked to the shadow of a fluffy teddy bear ensconced in rumpled throws on the chair beside him. //You aren't enough, Ted. For a real young kid, maybe, but an adult in trouble, you need human contact. For kids, too, often enough, now that I think about it. Father taught me that. . .//  
  
The faint pricking of threatening tears at the corners of his eyes made Duo brush those memories aside with a burst of will and a black sleeve, and refocus on his primary objective here.  
  
Footsteps padded closer. . .  
  
Duo straightened, and set his shoulders back, pulling off his black cap and looking expectantly at the moonlit entrance to the dining room. //Well, Father also always said a little prayer can't hurt. So, wish me luck, Big Guy. Hey, if anyone can give me any, You can! And I think I'm gonna need it for Zechs. . .//  
  
Zechs trotted into the room, busily pulling his arm into the second sleeve of a borrowed robe too large for him, not very aware of his surroundings or how the warm cloth trailed behind him like a pale robe of state. A loose T- shirt and ragged-legged loose pants made up his sleeping attire, clearly borrowed as well, but comfortable. The boy must have been very tired, for his senses didn't warn him of another presence in the dim moonlight of the room until he was halfway to the chair.  
  
Then that pale head jerked up in Duo's direction, and he froze mid-step, hands caught fussing at a too-long robe sleeve. . . Icy eyes widened in a panic.  
  
"Hey, um. . . ," Duo began hesitantly, taking a step to close the distance, reaching a hand out in an automatic move to catch a bony shoulder and keep the target from running off.  
  
Almost immediately, before even completing the motion, the look in those eyes told Duo he made a big mistake. //Oh damn--!//  
  
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Miri hadn't expected anyone in his room, and the first thing he encountered was a whirl of mixed emotions: anger, at himself for being caught so foolishly off-guard; terror, the residue of those old memories of Sanc; blinding panic, borne of newer but equally terrible memories. Panic won out, guided by cues he didn't realize he was picking up: someone looking down at him with a smile, something flopping like a rope behind him, a hand reaching to grab, dark clothes--especially boots. . . He remembered boots very well, suddenly--slamming steel toes into his ribs and guts, leaving him to choke for air as other blows fell on his back and head, knowing through the ensuing pain that the worst would come when he could no longer move, defend himself--  
  
//No! Get away!// Backpedaling instantly, Zechs tripped over the overlong robe's tail, slamming onto the floor on his side, but he hit scrambling frantically as a cat with its tail on fire.  
  
"Hey--wait!"  
  
All the boy registered was that it was a familiar voice--he didn't try to place it, though, as he flung himself towards the door and escape like a wild creature, frantic. //Got to get out, get away--not again! I can't take it again!// He wasn't even sure what "it" he was referring to, other than some undefined horror sitting in the darkest recesses of his mind. Terror bound rational thought in tight webbing. //Run--run--RUN!!!//  
  
Arms grabbed him from behind, plucking him off his feet at his first lunge for the door--he kicked wildly and tore at them with his hands, but they held like steel even though he felt his feet connecting with bony shins and fingernails drawing blood from those larger hands. They gave him a firm shake instead, rattling his teeth.  
  
Zechs just closed his eyes and went still, panting like a terrified bird through clenched teeth and waiting for something to hurt. //Please no. . . No, please no. . . Please. . .// Nobody had ever listened to the silent, hopeless plea before, but he couldn't stop it from echoing in his head, as if that litany was all that would let him survive the ordeal he knew was coming. //No. . . Please. . . no. . .//  
  
Another shake, not so rough this time. "I'm not going to hurt you." The tone was almost angry, though quiet. "Relax, okay? Just me here--Duo. You /know/ I don't lie."  
  
//Duo?//  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you, okay?"  
  
Miri's eyes opened, and hesitantly he peered over his shoulder, uncertain of what he would see. But the anxious dark blue eyes, genial face, and unruly coppery bangs of Duo's familiar face were there, reassuring and unthreatening. . .  
  
The boy blinked a moment, feeling the rigid chains of his panic melting away. . . to a flicker of weary anger. //I /told/ you not to do this!// "Treize at least /says/ something before he startles me," Zechs grumbled, taking a deep breath to calm his breathing back down.  
  
Duo breathed a sigh of relief. "Sorry--forgot. What with all the other things going on, it slipped my mind. Especially as there's little reason to catch you at night, when it's easier to do so in daylight. You're not going to run on me again, are you? We need to talk."  
  
//Talk. . . What's so urgent that it has to be now? I'm tired. . . Though I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep now, after this. Not well, anyway.// Miri shook his head firmly, and sighed softly as Duo set him back down on his feet. Once again he began fiddling with the over-long sleeves, folding them back neatly one at a time.  
  
It gave him an excuse not to look Duo in the eye, however, as the boy asked, "Talk about what?" //I don't want to talk about. . . my past. I've had enough of that for one lifetime, let alone one day. Just leave me alone, Duo. . .//  
  
"You keep running off, hiding. . . keeping it all inside. It's going to destroy you, Zechs. You aren't talking, there's nobody to physically vent it on, and you said yourself that you can't withstand it forever! Just /talk/ to someone--let it out, it doesn't matter to who, before--before--" Duo stopped, biting off the rest of what he intended to say.  
  
"Before. . . ?"  
  
"Before we lose you," Duo finished quietly.  
  
Icy eyes stared blankly at the sleeve he was folding back, hands very still a long moment. //I. . . I /should/ talk to someone. It's just. . . Why can't I? Why is it so hard? Maybe. . . I'm just a coward. Tallgeese proved that already. I'm afraid. Afraid to break down my own defenses and reveal the coward I really am. Afraid to be weak. . . especially now, when I need to be strong.//  
  
"I don't know if I /can/," Zechs whispered softly. "Or if I dare. . . Just going back there--looking at my Father's picture--"  
  
Images jumped before his eyes at just the mentioning of today's events. //I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry. . .//  
  
"--I don't know what happened. I think--I think I lost it there. 05-- Wufei--had to shake me out of it. I don't know what might have happened if he wasn't there. I wanted to face the memories. I /think/ I've some control over them now, but if I don't. . . ?"  
  
When he looked up, Duo was smiling wryly down at him. "Well, I think any one of us is capable of shaking you back into reality again. Hey, if Wufei can, it can't be /that/ hard! I did it just now, didn't I?" he laughed, one hand gesturing towards the door, hinting of Zechs's goal only a few minutes earlier.  
  
//He's right. . . And--he /did/. What he just did--it's not that different from what Wufei had to do to help me escape the memories.// That realization brought a measure of hope and relief with it, which his tired heart and soul sorely needed. //Then that's just an excuse to myself, an excuse not to. . . Ah, God, of all things to be made into, why did I /have/ to become a /child/? I can't even reason with myself anymore!// "I. . . I suppose you're right," he answered quietly, looking back down at his sleeve and resuming folding. "You did."  
  
He could almost hear Duo nodding firmly. "Hey, you just have to pick one of us and a time to sit down for a long talk in private. We're a closed- mouthed group. Maybe Sally might want to hear some of it for medical purposes, but I don't see why anything that's said or done might get blabbed around afterwards."  
  
//Reassuring to know. . . I guess. . . I guess I should gather my courage and do it finally. I wish it weren't so hard to /find/ my courage right now, though. I could have sworn I had more somewhere. . . but I just feel so afraid. Of so many things.// Done with the sleeve, Miri hugged his arms around himself, closing his eyes. "I. . . I will. . . Just. . . not tonight. I don't think I can take any more today," he admitted shyly, ashamed.  
  
Carefully, warm arms closed around him slowly to avoid startling him this time, holding him loosely against cloth as black as night and warm as a teddy bear. . . and as reassuring as a parent's embrace. "It's alright," Duo's voice murmured gently just over his head. "It's alright, kiddo. . . Soon as you're ready. But make it /soon/, Zechs, because I don't think we can take any more pranks like last time!"  
  
Zechs had stiffened ever-so-slightly at that loose hug, but Duo's last words drew a weak laugh from him, easing some of the tension in his body. //I need this,// he decided, surprised. //It's. . . not the most comfortable thing right now, but I /need/ it. I guess I really /am/ a kid now. . .//  
  
Resting his head against Duo's ribs, Miri focused on relaxing, keeping his eyes closed, letting his body re-adjust slowly, to begin healing from old trauma, to learn to recognize what reassuring physical contact meant again. And Duo simply held him, firmly but not confining, as if the lone survivor of the Maxwell Tragedy knew exactly what he needed. . . and why.  
  
//Our tragedies aren't so different, perhaps. . .//  
  
The boy knew then and there who he would tell his terrors to. . .  
  
//He understands me better than I do right now.//  
  
"You can tell them to relax. . . I'm not up to it tonight."  
  
Zechs felt the vibration of Duo's chuckles under his cheek before he heard them echo softly over his head.  
  
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Relena rubbed at her eyes, feeling very tired though the morning had just begun. //I thought I outgrew those nightmares long ago. . .// Confusing flashes, a tangle of images that carried with them an overtone of fear and loneliness, she couldn't remember them all when she woke. Something about fire. . . ? Fire and booming sounds, a sickly smell, a soft red blanket with pink flowers on it and intense light-blue eyes that stared briefly into her own. . .  
  
Eyes of a nightmare?  
  
//No. . . but something important, that's all I know, deep in my heart. I wish I knew who, though.//  
  
Smoothing her skirt one final time, the young princess picked up her notes for today's talk to the class full of peace-oriented students, and scanned them over carefully. Not an easy concept to teach others, the Peace Principle. Well, perhaps the Principle itself was easy, but how to achieve and maintain it in today's world was a challenge to figure out. Relena didn't lie to herself--she wasn't sure she knew how to achieve it herself. But people were counting on her. . .  
  
//The people of Sanc. . . Heero, his friends, his alliance. . . My brother. Brother? I wish I knew more about that--could it really be true, that he exists? And if so, what is he doing, why is he leaving all this to me when he's the elder, where is he, and why is he hiding from me of all people? I should talk to Pagan after class. So many questions. . .// Shaking her head, Relena gathered the notes together neatly in her hands and turned away from her desk.  
  
//Heero is counting on me. I don't want to fail him. . .//  
  
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to her suite and juggled the notes into her other hand, backing into the hall and reaching to shut the door--  
  
--and collided with someone!  
  
The impact rammed her into the doorjamb, scattering the notes from her hand to drift to the floor like a flutter of feathers, drawing a cry of dismay from her as they lost their sequence. Offended mildly by this unwanted delay, she whirled to look at the one who'd run into her.  
  
//A. . . girl?// For a moment, long hair gave Relena the impression that she had run into a girl, but only for a moment, as the sharp planes of his face suggested otherwise. //No, a boy. I've never seen him before, I'm sure of it.//  
  
He'd fared not quite as well as she, having ended up sitting on the polished hallway floor, braced up on his arms, blinking at her in surprise with large eyes, white drifting around him as well--only in his case, paper didn't settle about his shoulders and the floor in a wild mass, but long pale hair did.  
  
//Such a strange boy.// Those wide eyes refused to blink, but seemed to stare right /through/ her, as if something behind her mesmerized him. //I wonder if he's alright?// Perhaps he'd been hurt by the fall.  
  
"Are you alright?" she asked quietly, uncertainly, reaching a hand out to help him up.  
  
The young boy blinked, gaze adjusting to focus on her, and opened his mouth- -but nothing came out, for all his efforts. Eyes flicking to her hand, he cringed back before daring to glance up at her through a long fringe of blonde hair and nod shyly.  
  
Relena let her hand drop back to her side, feeling a twinge of hurt. //It's as if he's almost afraid of me. Does he know who I am? Why would he be afraid of me?//  
  
"Bother," she sighed, looking around at the notes scattered haphazardly on the floor. //I really should get moving, or I'll be late. I should do something to reassure him, though--I don't want him to think I'm some terrible tyrant princess.// Kneeling, she began scooping them together, trying to fit them in order again. "What's your name?" she offered gently, glancing over to give him a warm smile.  
  
Caught clambering back to his feet, uncertain ice-blue eyes blinked at her fearfully as he straightened. Probably not more than seven years old, she'd guess, but those clothes had to be hand-me-downs: too worn and poor- fitting to have been bought for him. A too-large T-shirt of faded blue, loose too-long pale pants folded at the ankles, sandals that hung loose on his feet. . . His family must be poor, perhaps one of the locals hired as servants by Pagan.  
  
He only stared at her, expression almost painful under her scrutiny, not answering her question, seemingly frozen by her attention.  
  
Lifting her notes to her breast, Relena straightened as well, brushing at her skirt self-consciously. //I wonder who his parents are. And what he's been told about me. . .// "I'm not going to get you in trouble--it was only an accident," she tried hopefully.  
  
"I. . ." His voice was so quiet she almost missed the words, and it sounded surprisingly low for his age. "I. . . I'm sorry. . ." The look in his eyes screamed that he desperately wanted to hide right now, but the corridor offered him no such opportunity with its bare furnishings and broad expanse. That tense stance gave her the impression of a nervous deer caught in the open spread of a large field, not knowing whether to fight or flee.  
  
//At least he's polite,// the young princess sighed to herself. //I don't think he can help being afraid. . . Perhaps he's lost? I bet that's it-- he's new here, and it's all so strange, and he knows nobody, not even where to go, really. Poor thing.//  
  
"Are you lost?" Relena asked brightly, convinced that it /must/ be the explanation. //I can help that. It's the least I can do for the poor bewildered thing.//  
  
Icy eyes blinked at her, in a dazed sort of way. For some reason, they reminded her of something. . . someone. . . but she couldn't pinpoint what or who exactly.  
  
//No matter. I'll remember in good time.// "I bet you're supposed to be at the children's teaching rooms downstairs," she stated with conviction, beaming at him. "I think all the children were going to the Science Museum today--they've probably left by now--but I'm sure you can watch some tapes until they return!"  
  
If she hadn't thought it already impossible, she would have sworn those large eyes /widened/. Probably at her powers of deduction.  
  
//I can spare a few minutes to get him settled there and leave Miss Magdalen a note about a new student.// Before the boy could answer--if he was going to at all--Relena jumped forward and grabbed at his wrist.  
  
The strange boy pulled back, startled, but didn't move far enough to escape her hand imprisoning his in a grip he couldn't break. His mouth opened in a gasp--those large eyes narrowed angrily--  
  
But Relena didn't pause to let him protest. She began pulling him along the hall towards the stairs, certain this was the right thing to do and oblivious to the boy's discomfort and dragging feet. //Poor thing's probably very embarrassed. Well, he'll be alright once we get there and he sees for himself that nobody's going to chew him out over so small a thing here.//  
  
Towing the boy in her wake like an unruly puppy, Relena cheerfully suggested, "I'm quite sure there's a whole archive of Disney movies you can choose from. . . How about 'Snow White for starters?"  
  
The groan behind her was probably just a creak in the floor.  
  
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//I'm glad Howard's got that taken care of. We're going to need Wing in top shape soon, I bet. And Heero's looking pleased,// Duo observed the silent pilot trotting beside him through the hall. //Well, as pleased as he ever does, I suppose. I /think/ that tilt at the corners of his mouth are hints of a smile. . .//  
  
"Well, hey, we'll have some good news to give others once we get to the conference room," Duo congratulated himself out loud. "Great that Howard's got the spare parts that Rashid said we need, huh?"  
  
"Hn." A grunt was the only reply.  
  
//Well, Heero's never one to waste words. . .// "And it was nice of Relena to give Treize permission to snag that conference room. That kitchen's a bit too small to cram us all in comfortably, I think."  
  
"Hn."  
  
//Or maybe I'm talking to myself.// "I bet Quatre's got a whole typed report ready for us on what we can use for that raid, too, by now. I think I saw him typing it up this morning."  
  
"Hn." The intonation didn't seem to change.  
  
//I /have/ to be talking to Heero. I get more conversation from talking to myself!// "Between him, Rashid, and Miss Noin, I think we've got all we want and more if we need it. They're all prepared all the time for the worst, it seems."  
  
"Hn."  
  
//Is he some kind of robot? Am I even getting through? Better try something wild.// "Did you know Dorothy snores like a lumberjack with a head cold? And that Treize has a pink tu-tu in his size in his luggage?" the braided pilot tried blandly.  
  
"Hn."  
  
//I give up!// Duo wailed mentally upon hearing that familiar sound again, looking at the ceiling for divine support to lend him patience. "Heero, I swear, you've all the vocabulary of a dead lemming sometimes. . ."  
  
But looking next to him again, Duo found that familiar presence suddenly gone. "Heero?" he asked, blinking, before looking over his shoulder.  
  
//Was it something I said?//  
  
Ah, there he was! Heero had stopped in his tracks a few paces back, and was staring at an open stairwell, frowning.  
  
//Huh? I wonder what's up?//  
  
Concerned, Duo walked back, taking position just behind Heero's left shoulder, and tilting his head as he studied the same object of scrutiny. It seemed normal enough--marble floor tiles, a soft carved wooden railing of elaborate quality, potted plants in the corners of the landings, paintings decorating the walls, a window to let in light. . . And empty.  
  
//I think the stairwell is winning,// The braided pilot decided, looking from unblinking comrade to architecture and back curiously.  
  
Duo scratched the back of his braid pensively. //To ask or not to ask. . . Ah hell, he hasn't killed me yet for chatting. Ask, then.// "Hey, Heero. . . what's with. . . ?" A hand gestured at the stairwell under observation.  
  
Heero actually frowned a little more, then scratched absently at an unruly bang that tickled his forehead. "I thought I just saw Zechs," he admitted, as if not certain he saw what he thought he saw.  
  
//Um. . . Okay, well Zechs is coming to this meeting, I imagine.// That little wasn't enlightening enough, for all Duo struggled to see how this was a concern. So he waited.  
  
"He looked as if he thought Relena was taking him outside for public execution."  
  
//What? WHO?// "Relena was /what/?" Duo demanded, feeling his stomach cramp in worry.  
  
Heero just blinked at him, and gave his words time to settle in.  
  
"Here?" Deathscythe's pilot choked, gesturing at the stairwell.  
  
Heero waited patiently.  
  
//Good gods, if Relena found him. . . ! Well, all right, I don't know /what/ would happen, but if it gets bad for him, he might go all panicky on her, or worse, get offended by her, and pull some kind of prank and God only knows how she'll take such, though I'd bet on her kicking the lot of us out of the country!//  
  
Heero was still waiting.  
  
Releasing a deep breath, Duo brushed his bangs from his eyes and tried to calm down. //Hell, I'm as bad as a paranoid parent!//  
  
Prussian blue eyes inquired silently if he was done and alright now.  
  
Groaning, Duo nodded insistently, making a face. "That's. . . not good, Heero." //Understatement, by far--I'm certain of it!//  
  
"I think we'd best go after them," Wing's pilot decided quietly, nodding back before calmly but quickly striding for the stairs to follow the pair he'd just seen.  
  
Rolling his eyes heavenward, Duo hurried after, grumbling to himself silently, //No, you just /had/ to get attached to the kid, and now you're a bloody nursemaid and ruining your stomach over all this. . . How the heck did his parents manage? A 'large' family, Sally said? God only knows!//  
  
But he couldn't help recalling the night before, and imagining just how the boy might react to Relena's innocent bounciness, an inadvertent gesture or touch. . .  
  
//Ah hell. . . We can only hope this doesn't make his mental condition worse!//  
  
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". . .a whole set of 'The Lion King' tapes, if I recall right. I bet you'd like those, wouldn't you?" she was asking.  
  
Zechs whimpered. //No, not that! Oh, please, /anything/ but that! Not a movie about a king getting assassinated and a son in exile!// But her grip was surprisingly strong, and digging his heels in only wrenched his arm almost out of its socket and threatened to send him tumbling down the stairs at this pace.  
  
But his sister didn't seem to hear his involuntary protest, or else attributed it to the steps they were trotting down at such a brisk pace. "You can even watch the whole set in order!"  
  
//Oh God no! I think I'd throw something through the TV first! Or try something equally drastic!// Weakly he tried to correct her, "Please. . . not--"  
  
Relena didn't seem to catch more than the word "please". She glanced over her shoulder at him and beamed with such grateful sweetness as to make his heart twist with guilt and kill anything else in his throat, along with any further attempts to correct her skewed impressions. "That's wonderful that you like it! You're going to get along great with the others, I'm just /sure/ of it! They love 'The Lion King' so much. . . I suppose it's from living in a restored kingdom now."  
  
Miri fought the urge to sob. //Others. . . ? And they love it?!? And we're going there to /meet/ them?!?// He felt as if he were being towed back to the laboratory he became a child in: horrified and feeling all hope running through his hands like soft sand, escaping all reach. //Oh, no, I don't think I'll be able to take this. . . Maybe if I grab a banister and cling to it with all my might. . .? It'll hurt, that initial wrench--I just hope it doesn't rip my arm off, or the banister doesn't break when she pulls! They look so fragile--will it work?//  
  
"Hey, cute stuff!" a voice called down the stairwell.  
  
//Duo?!?// Zechs could barely retain from calling for help like the desperate child he currently felt like.  
  
Both siblings stopped their descent and looked up, to find Duo's cheerful face beaming down at them cheerfully over a banister a good story up, a hint of relief in his dark blue eyes.  
  
"Is that. . . ? Duo?" Relena asked, brightening. "Duo? From--"  
  
"School? Yeah! Hey, it's been a while, huh?" the dark-clad Gundam pilot laughed.  
  
//They know each--? Oh! He said something about her meeting Heero and himself at school. . .// Miri let out a breath of relief.  
  
A second head peered over the banister at them, darker hair a disorganized mass.  
  
"Heero?" Relena identified the second face, her pleasure at his appearance evident in her voice.  
  
Zechs eyed his sister warily, his own dangers forgotten in the light of a new observation stealing his attention. //Great,// the Tallgeese pilot sighed to himself in resignation. //My sister has a crush on the most suicidal and deadly terrorist-pilot on Earth and in Space, who happens to be my strongest rival and possibly still considers me one small step above cockroaches, especially after that last prank I pulled on him. What else can go wrong in my life?//  
  
Prussian blue eyes blinked. Then, "We're coming down."  
  
Both heads disappeared.  
  
Relena continued gazing where they had been for a moment, then turned to watch the higher stairs expectantly, sighing happily. "Sorry about the delay, but I don't get much chance to talk to them. They're always so busy. . . ," she apologized absently. "'The Lion King' will wait a few minutes, but we'll get to it soon, I promise."  
  
//Don't remind me,// the boy whimpered silently to himself, feeling miserable at just the thought. Right now, Miri just wished for his mask and the cockpit of Tallgeese and a good fifty or so enemy suits, but settled for waiting for the right moment. . .  
  
Duo and Heero turned around the landing banister--  
  
Zechs jerked his wrist free and immediately dashed towards the startled pair, ducking behind Duo in a blur, living up to his nickname by moving like a streak of lightening as he latched onto the taller boy's belt like drowning man to a life vest.  
  
"Zechs?" an anxious Duo asked as he was abruptly glomphed for dear life, nearly tripping over the blonde boy in his surprise.  
  
//Help me, help me, help me, please!// Miri just buried his face in the back of Duo's shirt, and shivered.  
  
"You know him?" the princess was inquiring, amazed, as they joined her, stopping a step or two higher. "He wouldn't tell me his name," she admitted sadly.  
  
Heero just grunted. "Hn." It sounded rather like an affirmative, but then, part of that could have been wishful thinking.  
  
On the other hand, Duo tried to come to Zechs's defense. "Yeah, well, we met a bit back, I guess--kinda interesting that. . . Long story, though. . . Um. . . ," he offered, faltering. "Er. . . Yeah, wouldn't you say, Heero?"  
  
//Oh, God--that's right, Duo doesn't lie!// A twinge of fear at that realization made Zechs shiver uncontrollably against Duo. //They might have to tell her. . . Please, don't. Oh, please don't, Duo!//  
  
"Hn." Heero wasn't contributing much to the conversation.  
  
Miri felt Duo's hand rest on his shoulders and give a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, you alright kid?" the braided pilot was asking, sounding quite concerned, voice quiet and gentle.  
  
"I think I've frightened him somehow," Relena added uncertainly, apologetic. "Do you know his family, where he's from?"  
  
//No, I'm not alright. . . I want to be very, very far away right now!//  
  
"Yeah. . . um. . . well, his name's Zechs. . . ," Duo began, absently rubbing the back of his head nervously.  
  
"Winner," Heero supplied shortly out of the blue, surprisingly coming to Duo's rescue. "Quatre's cousin," he added tersely.  
  
Zechs breathed out a silent sigh of relief into the back of Duo's shirt. //Thank you, Heero. I'll never pull a prank like that on you again--I promise!// he swore gratefully.  
  
Aided by Heero's few words, Duo continued, "Well, you see, Quatre's a Gundam pilot like us, and we couldn't exactly just leave the kid there in Africa. He's had a rough time--kinda traumatized, I guess, by the war and all. . ."  
  
Miri winced. //A bit too truthful there.//  
  
"Oh. . . Poor thing," Relena murmured sympathetically.  
  
That certainly felt strange. Sympathy from his own sister, who clearly didn't know the half of it. Zechs wasn't sure if it helped or made things worse. //I wonder what she'd say if she knew the whole story. . .//  
  
"I was just about to take him to the schooling center for the children of staff here," Relena supplied hopefully, smiling warmly. "Miss Magdalen teaches all of them, though they're of various ages--there aren't that many, so it's no big burden, she says. I'm sure he'll be happy with the other children. . . and safe enough, surely."  
  
//No, no, not that--ANYTHING but 'The Lion King'!!!// Zechs wailed mentally, clinging to Duo's belt with a death-grip. //I'll scrub mobile suit cockpits. I'll lick boots. I'll cut my hair! But NOT that!//  
  
Heero snorted indelicately. "Not safe enough," he announced firmly.  
  
Relena blinked, mouth dropping open in protest. "But--!"  
  
"Oz already knows about him--they'd grab him first chance they could," Duo reasoned a bit more gently.  
  
//Too true. . .// Miri sighed to himself, a bit reassured. //Thank God these two are on my side in this!//  
  
"Why don't we ask him?" the young princess tried, undaunted.  
  
"Hn?" Wing's pilot grunted.  
  
"But--?" tried Duo.  
  
Too late. Relena leaned to peer around Duo and smiled alluringly at the blonde little boy, who refused to look up from Duo's shirt.  
  
"Zechs?" she asked gently.  
  
//Stubbornness just /had/ to run in our family. . .//  
  
"Zechs?" Relena tried again.  
  
//Good intentions had to run in the bloody family. . . ! Go away, go away, go away! Just looking at you--it brings up memories that I /really/ don't want to deal with right now!//  
  
Duo's hand awkwardly patted Miri's shoulder, trying to sooth the small figure vibrating against his side. "Hey, kiddo, it's okay. . . It's okay. . . ," he whispered softly over the boy's head.  
  
Miri's sister must have given up on getting him to lift his face, because she finally got to the question. "Zechs. . . would you like to join the other children? They're really a very nice group. . ."  
  
//No!// Without looking up, he shook his head in a firm negative, shuddering at the idea. //I'm not like them. . . I doubt they'd even accept me, mind and body in turmoil like this, a mismatched puzzle of a human being. They'll sense it right away--I'm not really a one of them, just a mess. . . /Real/ kids notice such things.//  
  
"Doesn't look like it, Relena," Duo observed quietly. "Really. . . it's better this way. Trust me."  
  
The young girl sighed, frowning slightly at the oblivious boy clinging so tightly to Duo. "I don't understand. . . ," she breathed softly, almost painfully. "I wish I could avoid scaring him, though. . ."  
  
"Ah, don't fret it, Princess," Duo brushed her worries aside with a wave of his free hand. "It's just how he is. . ."  
  
"Well, he doesn't seem to have that problem with you," she complained.  
  
//They aren't part of a long list of bad memories!// Zechs answered silently.  
  
Grunting, Heero muttered, "Pilots."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"That could well be it, yeah," Deathscythe's pilot admitted wryly, free hand brushing at his bangs to clear his eyes. "Heero means it's 'cause we're pilots, maybe. Kid relates better to us, somehow. . . But it could also be 'cause we've known him a while now, and he's got to trusting us. . . Wasn't easy, though. He's very. . . erm. . . hard to get close to."  
  
"I can see that," the girl observed dryly with a sigh.  
  
//Please, sister, just give up now. . . You're the last thing I want to deal with right now,// Miri prayed silently.  
  
"Yeah, well, we'd best go find the others. . . Quatre will be there," Duo offered cheerfully. "Sorry to dash off, Princess--but gotta catch him and the repair crew and Treize before that guy starts pushing posh tea and biscuits on the lot of us. Before you know it, he'll have us singing opera during battle, you know? Best to nip that kind of thing in the bud. . ."  
  
Heero eyed Duo balefully.  
  
Spreading his hands innocently, Duo smiled sheepishly at his fellow Gundam pilot.  
  
Zechs glanced up at the braided boy through his long bangs and rolled his eyes. //You're starting to babble, Duo. . . Don't give it away!//  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Um, yes. . . well, you can stop glaring at me, Heero. Culture is sometimes overrated," Duo stated defensively, setting fists on hips.  
  
Snorting, Heero nodded politely to Relena, then glared at Duo again. "Let's just go before they leave entirely."  
  
"It was nice seeing you both again," Relena offered, smiling sadly. "And nice to meet you, too, Zechs Winner. . ."  
  
//Ugh! That name sounds terrible!// But Miri waved a hand at her slightly, sheepishly, refusing to let go of Duo's belt and thus seriously hampering the Gundam pilot's attempt to bound back up the stairs. The larger boy ended up practically dragging him in Heero's wake. . .  
  
Was it Zechs's imagination, however, or did he actually hear a distant echo of Relena's voice echo up the stairs after him, murmuring to herself, "A strange boy. . . so awfully familiar somehow. . ."  
  
The boy in question closed his eyes. //I hope you never know, Relena. . . Never know that a haunted, broken child was meant to be a king one day, and failed to be more than just that--a haunted, broken child forever hiding his face and bloodied hands. . .//  
  
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To be continued. Dangnabit! I keep pulling this damn elbow over and over again! Anyway, I hope the length of this makes up for such a long lull, at least in part. 


	24. Behind The Cricket Pavilion

That's Childish, So Childish. . .  
  
Chapter Twenty-Four: Behind The Cricket Pavilion  
  
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YES! I am back on the case!  
  
Disclaimer--I don't own it. My fish all died, by the way. Yes, old age-- they only live maybe 3 years, max, for their species, and you get them grown up after they take up most of that. . . They're not goldfish, after all.  
  
Warnings--I think this chapter's fairly safe. Yeesh, it's nothing compared to my Bound In Shadows fic over at Rogue11's site. ;) And yes, that's why this took so long--I was working on that one. Unfortunately, all the tales are going on hold or slow due to my clinicals, which go on into December! Sorry, guys.  
  
And so we see a conference with cookies and cream. Sanc undergoes its first battle. . . quite unexpectedly, and much to the dismay of the palace cleanup crew, I imagine. Later, they find another way to burn off steam and sugar-highs, though Treize finally admits to Rashid just /why/ he is quite happy being a lesser component in this endeavor and why his soon departure with Trowa isn't that sorrowful an event.  
  
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"Chocolate chip cookies!" Duo cried with sudden glee the instant he entered the conference room.  
  
Even as he spoke, he became a black blur straight for the cause of that cry, dragging a streak of white in his wake because Zechs didn't let go of his belt fast enough. Not that Duo even noticed. Cookies nearly reflected in his wide, eager eyes like stars mirrored in a deep blue pool. Magnets had less strength in their connection--the young pilot practically /flew/ towards the heaped dish.  
  
//COOKIES!!!!//  
  
Cookie Monster from Sesame Street would have met his match if he faced Duo Maxwell on a hunt for sugar. One could attribute that to his past, one in which no mother was available to bake or buy such luxuries, though when he was older, Duo could afford to purchase a box on the rare occasion. Scarcity made that homely food his greatest weakness, however--he couldn't get enough. And home-baked, which outclassed the store-bought as diamonds out-classed cut glass, was, in Duo's opinion, just one short step from pure Heaven. As the many Mastercard commercials proclaimed, some things in the world are just simply priceless--and a good, fresh-baked chocolate chip cookie with chips that melt in your hand, in Duo's opinion, was one of them.  
  
"Baka, leave some for the rest of us, too," Heero grumbled, striding a bit more slowly in the pair's wake to rescue one by plucking it directly from Duo's eager hands. But despite his gruff tone and chiding words, the amused gleam in his eyes suggested that he really didn't mind all that much.  
  
Cautiously, Zechs peered around Duo's body at the dessert plate to try and fathom just what the dark-clad man could be so fanatical about, not letting go of the braided pilot's belt. Too busy heaping cookies onto a paper plate, Duo didn't even notice that he had an observer until he started turning from the service table towards the conference table, almost elbowing the boy in the face as he did so.  
  
//Yikes! Watch out, kiddo!// "Hey, didn't see you there, kiddo! What's up?" the cheerful Deathscythe pilot asked. His eyes fell to those hands still firmly glued to his belt before he added, "Don't you think you can let go? You're safe here."  
  
The young boy blinked, then flushed warmly, scarlet touching his cheeks in embarrassment. "I'm. . . sorry," Zechs whispered shyly, slowly releasing the supple leather and wriggling his fingers free from between it and Duo's waist.  
  
//He's much more subdued now. Has meeting his sister sent him reverting even further? I hope not.//  
  
Glancing about, Duo hid a frown, considering the environment, looking for something to distract or cheer the blonde boy up with. Heero had claimed a seat at the far end of the conference table with his stolen half-eaten cookie steadily undergoing destructive nibbles, and pitchers of coffee and water waited near him for the other alliance members to utilize upon arrival. Otherwise, there was just Duo himself, the huge tray of cookies fit to satisfy a school of chocoholics, a couple pitchers of milk and orange juice, a selection of pop cans for any caffeine freaks among them, and a tidy stack of paper plates, napkins, and crystal clear glass cups.  
  
//Cookies. . .//  
  
An idea struck.  
  
Passing his heaping plateful to a startled Zechs, Duo smirked. "Here, help me with this. Have you ever dunked a cookie before?" he tried. //I bet he hasn't. . .//  
  
A bewildered look crossed the boy's face as the heaped plate ended up in his hands before he could protest, and as he stared at them in surprise, he shook his head slowly to emphasize, "No. . ."  
  
Heero glanced up from across the room, frowning. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.  
  
//Heero never dunked cookies before, either?// Then again, thinking about how well Heero was trained, and the likelihood that he almost never did anything fun as a result, it became a rather logical conclusion. Well, only if you had the leisure time to actually travel down that trail of deductions. Up until now, Duo certainly hadn't. //Well hell! Guess I have two pupils in this!//  
  
Pouring three glasses of milk to the brim, Duo caught up a cookie to throw at Heero--who plucked it deftly from the air, of course--before picking up the drinks and carrying them in its wake. "Cookie-dunking is an old tradition, guys. /Everyone/ has to try it once in their lives! So I'm going to teach you how," the braided pilot proclaimed smugly. "You have to work at the technique, you know."  
  
From the lost expressions on their faces, his audience did /not/ know. In fact, they were probably struggling to imagine how anything so simple could involve any kind of strategy at all!  
  
"Dipping it in milk is not a difficult activity," Heero observed wryly, neatly-caught cookie currently undergoing intense visual assessment as if he thought Due had booby-trapped it somehow. He clearly wasn't certain what Duo was trying to accomplish here, and suspected mischief of some sort.  
  
If only he knew. . .  
  
Zechs set the plate of cookies down within reach of all three of them, glance traveling from one Gundam pilot to the other, then hesitantly picked up a cookie and drew a glass of milk closer to his chosen seat. "What exactly is the point behind it?" he wanted to know, curiosity edging his voice despite his silent compliance.  
  
//Good. It's getting him back out of his shell. . . and surprisingly, Heero, too! This might be a better idea than I originally imagined. Never knew the ultimate social ice-breaker could be cookies and milk. . .//  
  
Grinning broadly at the pair, Duo selected a cookie for himself at random and poised it over his own milk glass, shoving the last glass closer to Heero to encourage the other Gundam pilot's participation in this ritual. "It makes it /taste/ better! Why else?"  
  
//I think they'll get a kick out of this.//  
  
Grinning smugly, the braided Gundam pilot held up his selection deftly, and began explaining the mechanism and theory with all the cheer of a little kid--and the expert assessment of a soldier.  
  
"To start with, you hold it like so. Milk's usually damn freezing, and I don't know about anyone else, but I don't care for frostbite--therefore, the less of you that ends up in the milk, the better. However, we want the whole cookie to absorb, so your grip must remain small, but be careful that you don't grip too close to the edge where it can crumble apart on you prematurely. Crumbs in milk aren't the same, you know! Now, absorption is proportional to the time it stays in the milk. . . Personally, I like it as soggy as possible, but too soggy and it falls apart before you can eat it, so you have to try various levels to find your own preferences. . ."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
A good two hours later, Zechs contemplated drowning cookies simply as a means of staving off boredom.  
  
//I like them very soggy, too. . . but my fingers are too numb to continue this. They hurt from the cold!//  
  
The sugar had already kicked in, leaving him restlessly flicking chunks of mutilated cookie across the table from one chocolate-stained hand to the other. He couldn't possibly swallow any more, the allure of chocolate not withstanding--nor take another gulp of milk.  
  
//If I do, I'm going to throw up. I want to. . . I want to be doing /something/. I mean, we looked at the base's plans and my crude maps, but how far do they expect to detail their plans? We don't know enough! Whatever we do will have to be subject to quick changes in the last minute-- or in the field.//  
  
For some reason, Miri found it difficult to concentrate on the discussion at hand. Perhaps because he had little to contribute, and the first thing he had been told was "You're not going!"  
  
Well, that would curb anyone's enthusiasm for the project.  
  
Not that he intended to obey that statement. The others planned to depart early the next morning on a pair of transport planes, two Gundams in each, and the blonde boy intended to be aboard before--and during--take off. Stowing away couldn't be that difficult. After all, he'd stolen his own plane before this.  
  
//I'm small, I'm fast, I'm smart, and there are plenty of places to hide. . .//  
  
"So Heero and I will hunt around in this sector, and then you, Quatre, can chop out this signal tower at the other end. . ." Duo was suggesting, prodding a mark on the map before all of them.  
  
"If no suits remain at that point," Wufei interjected, "I will start taking out the generators. The sirens are very annoying. . ."  
  
A faint smile touched Zechs's lips at that personal comment. Little by little, his friendship with the Gundam pilots was growing over time. //I learn something new about them every day.//  
  
"Then might I recommend hitting this corner of the electrical compound?" Treize threw in from his seat beside Duo, tapping the point under comment with one gloved finger as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips with the other for a sip to wet his throat. "That way you take out the main line to the sirens. There are backup generators beneath the administrative building that you cannot reach, and they would still supply the vital functions of the base if you took the others out."  
  
//At least Quatre looks as bored as I do. I don't think he has terribly much experience with input coming from all sides making all this /too/ flexible!// Miri mused, eyeing the boy across the table from him and noting the other blonde's tired expression. ///He/ probably sees that it'll depend on what we find there, even if the other's don't yet.//  
  
Poor Quatre simply glanced at the map, at the fingers gesturing at various points on it, and finally at the broken cookie chunks representing the various Gundams they were thinking of coordinating--and sighed softly. To his right, Trowa was dozing, unconcerned and trusting the rest to hash out a decent plan without him. After all, tomorrow Trowa and Treize were going to take the majority of ex-Oz troops off to Luxemburg to collect the scientists and set up defenses at that strategic point. Romefeller would have to get through them before attacking Sanc itself.  
  
To Trowa's right, Wufei was leaning forward, pondering Treize's suggestion intently, his gaze burning holes in the map over a frown of concentration, intrigued by the details of this plan. To /his/ right, at the head of the conference table, sat Heero, laptop plugged in but idle to his left, his sharp eyes following everyone's contributions, though he had declined to comment on these details yet.  
  
To Quatre's left, Rashid also frowned thoughtfully at the map, probably planning the best drop-off points for the Gundams and their pilots prior to the attack, and where to pick them all up. That would vary with the attack sequences, and the results of the attack, after all--success meant anywhere would be good, but failure limited the man's options significantly. To his left sat Howard, who was idly perusing a magazine, leaving this mess entirely up to the others to plan.  
  
Duo had a seat on Heero's right, across the table from Wufei, and was the one who had originally broken a cookie to represent their machines. Beside him, Zechs sat, bored, followed by Treize, Noin, and Sally. Treize and Noin were in their element as strategic experts, especially considering their extensive knowledge as to the standard layout of earth's military bases, and occasionally offered insight as to this attack and that. On the other hand, Sally had bigger concerns, and was studying printouts of the data they had available on the Phoenix Project, hunting for anything that could be a clue as to where the project might be currently housed on the base, and which locations might have stored data concerning the medical details they wanted. Otherwise, Duo and Heero would be running around the base rather aimlessly--a dangerous thing to do when outnumbered at about a thousand to one!  
  
//But I really don't think it matters what order they take out the mobile suit and plane hangers in. . . They just need Wufei and Quatre to keep things busy--without shutting down the base's power-supply--or they can't check out the computers to /find/ that data. We really don't need to hash this out so much!//  
  
Sally's voice brought Zechs out of his wandering thoughts. "Well, here's something to look for, at least," she sighed in resignation. "Look for this Biohazard sign--marking a whole sector as a danger--and then hunt around for the Phoenix Project emblem."  
  
The ex-Alliance doctor held out two strange symbols. The first was a bright orange triad of broken circles, the universal sign for Biohazard and kindly enough having the word written in big bold letters beneath it, just in case a symbol wasn't enough. The other was a blue rendition of a silhouetted bird, rather akin to the old symbol used by Pontiac for an ancient kind of twentieth-century car called a "Firebird", gold lettering beneath it pronouncing the name of the project. Both would likely be easy enough to memorize, even for an idiot.  
  
Heero reached out to accept her samples of both symbols as they were passed around to him, Prussian blue eyes immediately memorizing. After a minute, he passed them to Duo. "What type of data do we need?" he asked the doctor quietly.  
  
"Documents, statistics, test analysis performed, Zechs's blood values and recordings of all drug and medication dosages during his captivity," the ex- Alliance Major offered, chewing her lip as she considered. "/Anything/ regarding techniques and chemical compounds involved. Data on preliminary tests performed on rats--if they have any, but I suspect they did at least /some/ kind of preliminary testing of the stuff they used on people. Background research resources that made them come up with the notion of making such a drug to begin with. Pretty much anything, really. What Zechs managed to scrounge before leaving is piecemeal, and I need more to go on than guesses."  
  
Miri sighed softly, still flicking a crumb from one hand to the other. //I imagine a lot of the important stuff was encoded and locked behind numerous passwords that terminal I used couldn't access.//  
  
"So. . . we raid the infirmary, then the brig sectors--" Duo revised.  
  
"Too far apart," Heero corrected firmly, pointing at how those were in separate buildings. "You take engineering, then the prison sectors in order of proximity. I'll check the infirmary, then the administrative section, then see if they are using some of the unused living quarters. We need to work fast."  
  
"Engineering? They don't play with people, Heero!"  
  
"But they do a lot of research, and they might keep all the base's projects' data together. Besides, they're in the same building as the brig- -if they use the one, they likely stayed in the same building."  
  
"Hell. Sally, are you sure you can't make it easier to pinpoint where they keep all this info? We'll be hunting around the bloody place all day!"  
  
//This will take another hour,// Miri sighed softly to himself.  
  
Tuning out again, Zechs pondered who he could flick cookie chunks at without getting shot at. Not Trowa--a sudden wake-up call might get a violent reaction, considering he /was/ a well-trained Gundam pilot and an ex-mercenary to boot. Rashid didn't have much of a sense of humor for Zechs to rely on. Wufei, undoubtedly, wouldn't consider physical bombardment amusing. And Howard--he had no idea, as he barely knew the man beyond his name. . .  
  
//Quatre looks like he could use such a diversion, though,// he decided mischievously. So, taking careful aim, he let fly.  
  
Flick!  
  
The blonde Gundam pilot started as a small chunk of cookie stung his hand, and immediately looked up--to catch Zechs's inviting, playful smirk. A slow smile touched Quatre's lips in echo, those tired blue eyes lighting up with playful glee. A hand immediately grabbed a couple cookies from the plateful by the map everyone else was intent on, and began breaking them up into smaller ammunition.  
  
Smile broadening slightly, Zechs held back a grin as he also collected more cookie "ammo", and he eyed the other blonde through a fringe of near-white bangs.  
  
Quatre eyed him back with sly intent, poised and waiting for Zechs to be ready. . .  
  
//Here we go!//  
  
As if cued to both start at the same moment, the bombardments across the table began at the drop of an invisible flag.  
  
Flick! Flick! Flick-flick-flick-flick-flick!!!  
  
Cookie chunks shot back and forth across the table, a couple jumping the map as the rest plowed into the "gundams", one stinging Duo's hand before he could pull it out of the range of fire, another ricocheting off Rashid's coffee mug to land on top of Sally's papers, one bouncing off Zechs's milk to hit Wufei's water-glass and fly back across the table to land in Noin's soda with a clink, another cracking off Quatre's mug to end up in Treize's coffee with a splash that stained the man's white glove.  
  
"Hey!" An astonished--and stung--Duo, shaking his hand.  
  
"Nani!?" A wide-eyed Heero staring at dismay at the map--whose "Gundams" had suddenly relocated, fragmented, and multiplied.  
  
"Zechs. . . !" Treize, suddenly in a paternal mood--the admonishing, disciplining kind.  
  
The crossfire halted in an instant, as two pairs of sheepish blue eyes surrounded by blonde-white bangs shifted from each other to Treize.  
  
"My drink!" An unhappy Noin, staring at her pop can in disbelief, trying to guess the odds of what had just happened and finding them too strongly against the reality of what just occurred for her to believe her eyes.  
  
Sally merely blinked at the mess on her papers.  
  
Rashid, on the other hand, retreated in his seat as if interested in trying to hide behind the limited protection of his coffee mug.  
  
Arching an eyebrow slowly, Wufei looked from one blonde culprit to the other--then at his glass of water--as if thinking up some form of revenge.  
  
"Hmm?" Howard looked up over the edge of his sunglasses--and smiled knowingly.  
  
//But Treize. . .// Zechs sighed, giving his oldest friend a "puppy-dog" look, pleading in silence. //I'm BORED!!!//  
  
At that moment, Quatre gave a quiet giggle, and flicked one at /Treize/.  
  
It ricocheted off the man's unstained hand and struck Trowa in the chest with almost bruising force, making the ex-Oz General swear in pain, and snapping the tall Gundam pilot awake in an instant.  
  
Trowa's eyes fixed the opposite side of the table with an icy, disapproving glare of death that did Heero proud.  
  
//Uh-oh.// Miri cringed in his seat. This didn't look good! "It was /him/," he protested weakly, pointing at Quatre across the table.  
  
The cold glare turned to the other blonde, unwavering and accusing.  
  
Sandrock's pilot flushed hotly enough to rival the desert sun, and smiled feebly, spreading his hands in a slight, apologetic shrug.  
  
//Quatre's SO dead. . .// Guilt made Zechs pale a bit, ashamed and worried for his new friend. //It's all my fault--I started it.// But a glance revealed Treize still shaking his injured hand and glaring at both blondes in a manner that made him certain that Miri wouldn't escape this unscathed, either. The boy gulped. ///I'm/ dead, too!//  
  
A spark touched Trowa's eyes, and they narrowed. Heavyarms's pilot reached to claim a couple cookie bits that remained of Quatre's ammunition, as if to take them out of the hands of a child, and confiscate them safely. . . then a slow, wicked smirk touched his lips.  
  
"This means WAR!!!"  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
All hell broke loose!  
  
As if Trowa's words were a cue for the melee to begin, a mass scramble began for the remaining cookies. Whole cookies took flight this time, and they were thrown, not flicked. Wufei didn't bother joining the competition for them, however, and flung his water at Duo instead, making the braided pilot yell in dismay as his shirt was drenched down the front. Heero also avoided the fray, and grabbed the maps and vital documents Sally had passed to him earlier--barely rescuing them from the water from Wufei's mug--and along with his laptop, dove under the table for protection. Howard lifted his magazine and used it as a protective screen to hide behind, scrambling backward from the battle to escape. Sally just grabbed her things and /fled/.  
  
//IEEEE!!! I need ammo! I need /protection/! I'm getting pelted and it /stings/!!!// Despite that, Miri laughed happily at the ensuing battle. Hey, at least it was certainly not boring anymore!  
  
Zechs tried to shield himself with his arms, blindly throwing whatever came to hand as he struggled to retreat to the refreshment table. Meanwhile, Quatre was laughing as he and Trowa pelted each other with broken cookies, and poor Rashid, taking the brunt of /Zechs's/ attack in an effort to protect Quatre, could only bellow protests that nobody seemed willing to heed. Treize, following Wufei's example, flung his coffee at Nataku's pilot, who hollered in surprise. Noin, in turn, with a wicked grin, dumped her remaining soda on Treize's head, drawing a shriek of horror from her former superior. Duo lobbed a few cookies at Noin in passing, however, as he streaked past.  
  
A gleeful Miri managed to escape to the refreshment table by the point that the table's activities became a true free-for-all, luckily. After all, it still had the last of the cookies, and all the remaining drinks! //Bingo! The ammunitions depot!//  
  
Straightening behind the table, the boy reached for the plateful of cookies- -  
  
--only to find Duo there, waiting for him with a double handful of crumbled cookies in hand!  
  
Before Zechs could utter a shriek, he was under heavy attack. "Gotcha!" Duo laughed, pelting away like a horizontal rainstorm of baked goods.  
  
//I won't go down /that/ easily!// Determinedly, Miri blindly grabbed the nearest thing, trying to deflect the worst of Duo's barrage from his face with his other hand--and closed his fingers on a pop can. //YES!!!//  
  
Giving it a violent shake, Zechs grinned, whirled back to face Duo--and popped the top.  
  
FIZZZZZZ!!!!  
  
Soda spurted all over the braided man!  
  
"Who's laughing now, braid-boy?" the blonde countered joyfully as Duo yelled and retreated, trying to protect his hair from getting soaked.  
  
"I am," returned a cool voice behind Zechs.  
  
//Heero?!?// Miri whipped about in alarm, but it was too late.  
  
A whole pitcher of milk emptied itself over the white-blonde boy's head, drenching him from head to toe! And all he could do was laugh and splutter as it soaked him to the skin, accepting his fate with cheerful resignation. Looking up between white-dripping bangs, Zechs couldn't help a smile, especially at the sight of Heero's expression of quiet amusement and the empty pitcher still in Wing's pilot's hands. Prussian blue eyes were watching the chaos with a kind of strange fondness. . . like an older brother, in a way. Despite the fact that some of the members of the mayhem were well past his age. Or maybe /because/ of that age gap. . .  
  
"Pick on someone your own size, Heero!"  
  
That was all the warning Heero or Zechs had before Duo retaliated, grabbing a pitcher of orange-juice--and flinging the contents at them both!  
  
Zechs yelped as a small portion got his arm--in one of the few remaining areas he wasn't /completely/ soaked by milk. Heero, on the other hand, gasped as the rest struck him as a wave full in the chest, the shock staggering him back.  
  
Hands on hips, looking smug, Duo grinned back at the pair.  
  
Short blonde boy and disgruntled-looking, serious brunette boy exchanged looks--and evil, conniving smiles.  
  
//I'm with you on this, Heero!//  
  
Duo took to his heels, laughing so hard he could barely keep his footing, as Miri and Heero each grabbed a couple pop cans and took off in pursuit.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"You're /dead/, Maxwell!"  
  
"What was that about /size/ again, Duo?!?"  
  
"You guys have to catch me, first!"  
  
"How do /you/ like your coffee, Noin?"  
  
"EEEEK! I'll get you for that, Treize!"  
  
"Ha! Weak--Itai!"  
  
"Ha-ha! Got you, Wufei!"  
  
"Barton--you're NEXT!!!"  
  
"IEEE! /Master Quatre!!!/"  
  
"There /are/ no allies in food-fights, Rashid!"  
  
"GOD! Quatre, you're /vicious/! Watch where you throw those things!"  
  
"Sorry, Duo!"  
  
"Take /that/, Quatre!"  
  
"IEEEE!!! Zechs, I thought you were after /Duo/!"  
  
"Heero, what are you--!?!"  
  
"There are NO sides in a food fight!"  
  
A chorus of protests arose in harmony as suddenly /everyone/ was sprayed with soda by the Gundam pilot standing in the center of the conference table. "HEEEEEERRRRROOOO!!!!!!"  
  
Thoroughly drenched now, that effectively brought the whole fray to a dripping, laughing halt finally.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
A couple hours later, Treize strode through the underground hangar complex with a rolling carry-on suitcase in tow, hair still a bit damp from a long luxurious soak.  
  
//Nothing else gets soda pop out from your hair. . . And I thought Zechs was the regressed one. All I can say is, thank God Heero wasn't the lost Prince of Sank! He'd have been a disaster!//  
  
Distantly, the ex-Oz general could hear the faint hum and clatter of Rashid's men and Howard's team working away at upgrading and improving the Gundams, probably some last-minute touches for Heavyarms before they load it up for travel. Tallgeese itself was currently mostly pieces, as it had the most need for upgrading and revision--mainly in an effort to keep it from killing Miri if he used it before a cure could be found.  
  
//Rashid and Howard don't seem to be very hopeful about that. . . I'm not sure, myself. I want to hope, but--I'm worried. Zechs. . . he seems to have adapted a bit to the changes, but part of that could be through telling himself that it's only temporary, that he can endure it for a little while.// Shaking his head sadly, the dignified man sighed softly to himself. //I'm not sure the others see it. . . but he's still regressing, only the changes are more subtle now. He was very quiet and shy as a kid, even before Sank fell, I remember. Not that he was terribly social as an adult, but that was more--avoidance, caution. I wonder just how far he may regress, in the end. Completely? Will the man known as Zechs Marquise vanish?//  
  
"Master Treize," Rashid greeted, turning to face him as the general entered the main hangar bay.  
  
Smiling slowly, Treize nodded politely back. "Rashid. You had the energy to return to this after all that? I'm surprised everyone hasn't called it a day after that fracas!" //Mainly because they /had/ to scrub multiple times to finally get clean again. I know I certainly did!//  
  
The taller man snorted, frowning slightly. "We wish," he rumbled wryly.  
  
Arching a pronged brow, Treize couldn't help a slow smile. //Let me guess. . . Zechs, and a sugar-high, and extreme sports?// "Oh? Are the Gundam pilots helping you out?" he inquired. "Babysitting, perhaps? I'm surprised you managed to get him in here at all, though--considering Zechs's ties to this place."  
  
"So long as you hold his attention on other things--something Duo appears to be very good at--he seems to endure staying here pretty well, actually. As for babysitting, however, well. . . Not. . . /quite/," Rashid returned, turning to lead the way through the various connected hangars towards the transporter plane where Treize could stow his luggage. "I'm not sure I would call it babysitting. . ."  
  
"Gangway!!!" something yelled, before a streak of brown and blonde flew past, vanishing into the hangar's shadows before they could even finish crossing it.  
  
//What the. . . ?!?// "Was that--?!?" Treize began, staring the way that streak had gone, amazed.  
  
"Trowa, yes, and Master Quatre," the taller man confirmed, not breaking stride as they began to enter the next hangar.  
  
"Rollerblading. . ."  
  
"Trowa is teaching Master Quatre how to balance."  
  
"What lead to that?"  
  
Rashid merely glanced over his shoulder at Treize, arching a bushy eyebrow in a wry expression.  
  
//You don't mean--!// The general froze, horrified. "WHAT? /All/ of them?!?" he exclaimed.  
  
Pausing to turn, Rashid folded his arms across his chest--and nodded firmly. "Yes."  
  
Sighing quietly in sympathy, the ex-Oz general ran a hand through the fading fuchsia of his hair. //You have my pity, for what it's worth, Rashid.// "Well," he offered weakly, "I suppose they have to do something to burn off all the sugar they consumed over the meeting. . ."  
  
"YIPE!" A shorter blonde blur whizzed almost into them, but an arm leapt out to catch at Treize's jacket and use him as a stable object as momentum whipped that small form around the former leader of Oz in a 360-degree turn.  
  
Treize looked up slowly where that blur had come from, only to see two more, larger, shadows barreling down at him. He could feel the blood drain from his face as Rashid casually but quickly--as only a man grown used to such chaos could--dodged to the right, out of their path.  
  
//What the--!//  
  
"There you are!" Duo bellowed triumphantly, set on his target and for all appearances, completely unaware of the other men in his path.  
  
Heero, following ten feet behind Duo, merely grinned in a feral manner most unlike his usual emotionless self. Clearly he knew what was going on--and what was about to occur.  
  
That was enough to make Treize suddenly wish he had already left.  
  
Warned of danger by that yell announcing his pursuit, however, Zechs simply dodged under and between Treize's much taller legs, and let momentum shoot him over to Rashid, where he cut speed by performing figure eights about the man's feet.  
  
Too late for others, however.  
  
//Oh shi--!//  
  
Treize went down in a flurry of metal-wrapped boots, bags, and flying copper-colored braid, as Duo crashed into him and sent them both flying a good ten feet. It felt rather like Treize's early days in school, when he had become a member of the rugby team--before he wisely shifted to /coaching/ it instead. He hadn't been tackled so well in decades. He had made it a point to /avoid/ such thing for decades!  
  
//Owwwwww. . . Sweet Jesus, if he fights like he plays, no wonder the Gundams always win!//  
  
Chuckling quietly, Heero whizzed safely past the tangled pair, and whirled in tight circles like an ice-skating champion as he watched the mess of limbs and clothes and bags attempt to resolve back into two separate entities again. "Baka. Kushrenada isn't playing!" he mock-scolded.  
  
"Are you alright, Duo, Treize?" Miri called from the safety of behind Rashid, peering at the entangled pair with concern, blue eyes wide.  
  
Moaning, Treize shoved the tail of Duo's braid off his nose, tried shoving his bag off Duo's legs, and helped the younger man get the front of a makeshift rollerblade out of his coat pocket. //I'm going to feel this tomorrow, I'm sure of it!//  
  
"Sorry, man--aiming for the kid, you know. His turn to be 'It'!" Deathscythe's pilot explained cheerfully, carefully untangling legs and hair and limbs with expert ease. "This your suitcase? Sharp! Didn't know they made 'em in leather."  
  
The ex-Oz general fought the urge to sigh as he returned to his feet and began brushing his clothes straight again. //This is going to feel like a vacation,// Treize promised himself silently, even as he made himself smile at the younger men in reassurance he wasn't sure of yet. //I think I wrenched a few things in that landing. At least it'll be quiet there in Luxembourg.//  
  
"I'm all right, Mr. Maxwell. Are you?" he asked, setting his suitcase back on its wheels and glancing over it, making sure it wasn't too bent up to roll anymore. He had no intention of carrying the thing, if it died. //That's not /my/ job. I'm a sophisticated man, for heaven's sake! At least it looks like it will hold up for the duration of this trip.//  
  
Brushing bangs out of his way, Duo gave him a thumb's-up and broad grin. "Good as new. Have a great trip, Treize!"  
  
With that, he launched at Zechs and Rashid like a rocket off a launch pad, scaring the laughing seven-year-old into fleeing again, and with Heero on their heels, all three whirred off into the darkness again.  
  
Only a chorus of laughter, squeaks, squeals, growls, and cheerful bellows echoed back to the two older men.  
  
//They seem to have all regressed,// Treize mused, as he and Rashid finally wandered into the main hanger where his plane waited, his mobile suit already loaded up. //But then, did any of them have childhoods before this? I suspect not. So perhaps this is a good thing.//  
  
Passing a mammoth pile of mobile suit parts that appeared to have started taking over half a hangar, he smiled over at Rashid. "Well, I imagine they deserve the chance to act their ages like this, considering everything else they have gone through and had to perform to reach this point," he offered gamely.  
  
The Arabian man merely turned to blink at him.  
  
//All right, so it's a good thing so long as /I/ can escape it.// Treize's smile turned sheepish. //I'm not a kid anymore. I can't keep up with Zechs on a sugar-high at this age.//  
  
Rashid lifted a hand as well as his eyebrow this time, and pointed a finger directly above them.  
  
Skates whirred louder, coming closer. . .  
  
//Not again!//  
  
The sophisticated General glanced up with trepidation.  
  
A small figure shot off the top of the pile like a missile right over their heads, its arms spread like wings in flight, soaring to a far distant landing that he accepted with a breathless but triumphant gasp before momentum carried him off amid a whir of gundanium wheels.  
  
Before Treize could even think of a comment, however, another shadow with a rope-like tail in its wake whooped loudly as it launched off the streamlined pile of metal right over their heads. This one spread his feet and slapped his makeshift skates at the height of his trajectory before making a perfect landing at a somewhat shorter distance and zipping off in hot pursuit.  
  
Another figure followed closely but silently, doing a forward flip and the splits before making a neat and barely audible landing of his own, to vanish like a ghost. . .  
  
A fourth squeaked as it became airborne, struggled to remain upright during its brief flight, and touched down in a shaky but decent manner, having shot a much shorter distance than the rest. He hollered to them to wait up as he struggled to regain speed and follow the others.  
  
Treize breathed a sigh of relief. "At least Trowa's not so much into this crazy kind of sport," he sighed happily.  
  
Skates whirred close again.  
  
//Spoke to damn soon.//  
  
Treize and Rashid watched, flabbergasted, as another shadowy form shot overhead, doing a multitude of expert flips, twirls, and tumbles, before making a perfect landing--/backwards/--a good distance away, not losing an ounce of momentum.  
  
Defeated, the ex-Oz general sighed glumly.  
  
Then a last shadow shot overhead with a sharp yell--  
  
"ITAI!!! Are you are all /suicidal/?!?"  
  
--as Wufei made an awkward landing and struggled to catch up with the others.  
  
//Wufei?!?// Treize's jaw dropped as he watched and listened to that last figure grumble in his efforts to pursue the rest of the players. //You know. . . Maybe it's time I got myself a set of skates, then. . .//  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------- To be continued. Dunno when, but hopefully soon. 


End file.
